


Untitled

by Wookiesauntie70



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Fandom, Star Wars:Bloodline-Claudia Gray, star wars episode IX
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Guess who’s alive + well?, New Galactic Alliance, New Galactic Empire, Romance, The last Skywalker gets a happy ending, Zahn’s Thrawn is canon :), ben solo redemption, ‘Bloodline’ ‘Solo’ and ‘Last Shot’ references, “Leia: Princess of Alderaan” references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 53,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wookiesauntie70/pseuds/Wookiesauntie70
Summary: A somewhat implausible conclusion to the Skywalker saga as you recover from holiday overindulgence. ;)Merry Everything, Happy Always!





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately following the events of TLJ.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> +

Ren was on his knees in the gloom of the deserted control room.

Dust motes floated around him and useless power cables surrounded him like coiled snakes on the salt-encrusted floor.

Ren was precisely that, thought Hux as he contemptuously regarded Ren’s silent figure. Useless. And very much a serpent. A venomous one, dangerously unpredictable. His very nature endangered everything the First Order had so carefully engineered. 

 

Hux found he couldn’t suppress the sneer that came over his face as he regarded what passed for their new ‘Supreme Leader’, hunched over in that derelict chamber like some sort of overgrown black bat.

Or overgrown child.

 

One who’d let his personal concerns stand in the way of what should have been total victory for the First Order this day.

Unpardonable.

 

 

Had anyone been observing him closely, they’d have noted the calculating gleam in Hux’s eye.

He had never been one to squander an opportunity.

Ren was distracted, vulnerable. A more perfect opportunity might never present itself.

 

Looking over his shoulder to confirm the locations of any other personnel, Armitage Hux stepped into the doorway of the control room and fired.

His blast caught Ren directly between the shoulder blades. With ruthless efficiency he then moved to dispatch the pair of troopers who’d been guarding the doorway.

 

Satisfied no one else was in the immediate vicinity, Hux strode from the scene and issued orders for immediate retreat.

 

 

Their Supreme Leader had just been assassinated, after all.

He would announce that the perpetrators had been dealt with.

No one would question the whereabouts of Ren’s body; he’d make certain of it. And if he wasn’t quite dead? He soon would be, even if no further action was taken. Crait was inhospitable and Kylo Ren would be very much alone.

The mental image of Ren dying slowly and miserably on this wretched rock had a certain appeal, reflected Hux. Almost enough to make him hope he hadn’t quite killed him.

 

 

The First Order began to depart Crait with its customary efficiency.

No one questioned the General.

There had been no shortage of witnesses to Ren’s deranged standoff with Skywalker, who had promptly vanished after making a fool of the First Order’s prime Force user.

Small wonder that the official report would state that two Stormtroopers had taken it upon themselves to rid them all of their rabid excuse for a Supreme Leader.

 

 

 

+++++


	2. Chapter 2

Rey crumpled to the floor of the Falcon. Searing pain blossomed between her shoulder blades and she groaned, still clutching the two halves of the ruined Skywalker saber.

She blinked. From where she lay on her side, haunted brown eyes bored into hers.

Those eyes. Again.

 

This time his face was mere inches from her own. Rey fought to regain what felt like control over her own body. It felt similar to untangling an uncooperative snarl of the Falcon’s wiring and before long she was somehow free of the agony he was still enduring.

Kylo Ren’s dark eyes were clouded with pain and Rey could hear him drawing ragged breaths. His pale skin was beaded with perspiration. Her mind empty of all intent, the Force had her reaching up to touch his forehead through their bond.

 

Her hand jerked back like she’d been scalded. Even as what felt like electricity jolted between them she could easily tell that his skin was cold and clammy.

 

_It’s over. They’ve left me. I’m alone. ___

____

____

_You’re not alone._

____

____

Something flickered in the blackness of his eyes just before the Force severed their connection.

 

 

Rey heard Leia’s gasp of astonishment and slowly became aware of voices buzzing all around her. She screwed her eyes shut, knowing she owed Leia an explanation.

She’d seen him, Rey knew. For the brief instant there had been physical ‘contact’ between she and Kylo Ren, Leia had seen her son. Rey wondered if anyone else had.

She took a deep breath and blinked.

 

Brown eyes again met hers, a different pair this time. She scrambled to her feet, helped up by Poe Dameron, who’d rushed to her aid.

“Hey, you okay there, Jedi girl?” He smiled reassuringly and Rey nodded her thanks to him.

Then she pulled an uncharacteristically ashen Leia into a tight embrace, whispering to her that they needed Chewie.

Leia gave the Wookie a subtle look he obviously recognized as significant and the three of them made their way to the relative privacy of the Falcon’s cockpit. Something in the General’s manner dissuaded others from joining them.

 

+++++

 

Chewie and Leia watched Rey’s departure in silence. They had given the others a vague reason for the Jakku scavenger’s sudden departure, indicating only that it was Force related and essential. Finn, the former Stormtrooper, had been especially reluctant to let Rey out of his sight. Leia sighed and let the commentary of the others wash over her as she fingered the slim band of the binary beacon fastened around her wrist.

There was still a chance for him.

For her son.

Luke had told her as much, though Leia’s heart had nearly burst to hear it. And now here was this girl, this spirited girl Han had by all accounts taken to so quickly, going to Ben now. Rey had referred to him as Ben...

Only it seemed like it might be too late after all. Rey had said it had felt as though he was near death.

Leia leaned back into Chewie’s comforting arms and let herself sag against him ever so slightly. As always, she knew how vital it was that she appear strong for those she led.

 

+++++

 

Rey stole through the silent darkness of the abandoned mine, the Force guiding her footsteps toward the one she sought.

Her bondmate.

She shivered; it must have been the cold. Night had begun to fall and the temperature was dropping rapidly. She’d taken care to wait until the sky was dark enough to disguise her approach from the far side of Crait. Sensor-evading Snoke’s shuttle might be, but she’d been unwilling to risk a visual.

Rey realized it would take time for the First Order to withdraw the last of their ground vehicles from the surface of the planet. She also recognized that she couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

She’d set Snoke’s shuttle down exactly where the Falcon had landed earlier and had threaded her way through the maze of corridors leading to Kylo Ren.

Rey nearly tripped over a body as she entered the control room. Through the viewports she could see the lights of First Order transports in the distance.

 

 

She had no wish to linger. What if someone came back? What if they intended to blast this entire mine and whatever remained of Kylo Ren into oblivion?

She hurried to him, gingerly touching him on what might have been his shoulder in the blackness even though she could already sense he was still alive. He was unconscious.

 

It was obvious that he was too massive a man to carry, or even to drag.

“Lifting rocks again,” she muttered to herself as she channeled the Force and raised him so that he hovered in front of her at waist height in the gloom. She gently cradled the back of his head—once she’d determined exactly where that was in the darkness—deciding to point his feet in the direction they were going. She didn’t want to inadvertently smash his head on anything as they moved through the abandoned mine.

Stars, he had the softest hair.

 

+++++

 

 

 

Once the shuttle was safely away from Crait Rey rolled him onto his side to assess the extent of his injuries.

She was stunned to discover there were none apparent.

She’d fully expected to find a gaping blaster wound but all she’d encountered was undamaged fabric. His cloak and the back of his tunic, which should have been ruined, were intact. Presumably so was the rest of him.

She couldn’t figure it out, although the material beneath her fingertips was of a decidedly odd texture. Did it have special properties she’d never heard of?

She used the med kit she’d planned on raiding to elevate his legs instead, quickly adding two bulky survival kits and some pillows until she was satisfied his long limbs were sufficiently raised.

Then she bundled his enormous form into blankets, vaguely recalling that people suffering from shock needed to be kept warm. And comfortable. Admittedly there was nothing especially comfortable about any of this.

Perched on the edge of his bunk, she silently regarded her patient. His breathing seemed steadier now and his lips didn’t have the bluish tinge they’d had earlier when she’d first brought him aboard. 

She decided to undo the top of his tunic so it wouldn’t be so restrictive, slipping her hand inside his collar so she could check his pulse.

Rey felt herself blushing; the contact seemed terribly intimate.

 

Suddenly his eyes snapped open and her wrist was seized in a vice-like grip. 

“We could have had _anything! _” he hissed, his dark eyes glittering dangerously in the half-light of the cabin.__

____

____

In that moment Rey realized he’d never been truly angry with her before. Not even on Starkiller; that had been something else entirely.

But now he was livid.

 

Mercifully his head lolled to one side as he slipped out of consciousness.

Rey yanked her hand out from under his collar. She had felt a strong pulse beneath her fingers. 

 

She hadn’t thought any of this through, she’d simply acted as the Force had directed her.

 

What in kriffing blazes was she supposed to do with him?

 

 

+++++


	3. Chapter 3

Alcida Auka nodded to herself, satisfied all was in order.

The daughters had seen to sweeping the snow away from around the huts and from the stone stairs of the sacred island. 

Hot soup and a crackling fire awaited this newest Outsider when he returned from wherever he’d wandered off to this time. He’d been sensible enough to don the thick woollens they’d provided him with before braving the island’s chill once more. 

Winter had come to the island mere hours after the last Outsider had vanished from the great rock near its pinnacle.

 

His rude, destructive apprentice—the one he’d referred to as his niece—had brought this one to the island. Her new skyboat had landed the same place her first one had, although she hadn’t left its confines for over a day.

When she had, she’d guided the tall one’s sleeping form all the way up the island’s winding stone staircase. After seeing him settled, she’d promptly left. The caretakers had wondered at the niece’s actions. Clearly the sleeping one hadn’t expected to find himself here when he’d emerged from his hut.

How he’d raged, the tall one in black! He had raced about the island like a wild thing, roaring his fury to the winds and sending rocks flying every which way like missiles. He’d hacked away at anything and everything within reach of that fiery red sword of his, leaving the earth itself cracked in several places by the time his tirade had ended.

Then he’d returned to his hut, retreating from the swirling snow.

 

With some trepidation the matron and two of the daughters had made their way up the winding stairs to his hut door. Would the tall one turn out to be one of the mad ones? The songs sung of those who’d rained fire and fury onto the island in ages past, forcing the Lanai to flee their homes. They hoped not; the season would make such a retreat difficult.

The tall one had not seemed mad when she’d gone to his door afterward. He’d appeared genuinely bewildered to discover her bearing warm woollens from the repository for his use. The daughters had entered after she’d signalled to them that it was safe to do so. They’d added wood to the crackling fire the niece had started and had stacked additional firewood near the doorway. Finally, they had placed tureens of hot soup and stew near the fire. When they’d handed him flasks of ale and water he’d muttered something unintelligible, presumably some sort of thanks. He’d appeared grateful, if somewhat confused. This tall one could certainly benefit from meditation, the matron mused.

The Lanais would not be remiss in their duties. The only Outsider who’d ever chosen to do his own chores had been the last one, the only one who’d insisted on learning their tongue.

 

+++++

 

Where in blazes was he?

Kylo Ren sat bolt upright on some sort of rough mattress, nearly smashing his head on a shallow stone ledge. Was his mattress actually stuffed with grass?

He flung the scratchy homespun blanket that had been covering him into the corner—which wasn’t actually a corner at all, he realized. He was apparently inside some sort of round, stone hut. He noted the two survival packs on the floor beside his pallet, as well as a stack of what appeared to be standard issue First Order blankets and a flashlight. His cloak had been neatly folded so he shrugged it on; even with the fire burning merrily in the hearth the hut was chilly. 

He pulled his boots on, realizing who must have been responsible for removing them to begin with.

Rey.

She had come back for him when he’d been abandoned and hopeless, rendered helpless by that blaster bolt. One he’d have sensed coming if he hadn’t been so weak.

Rey must be here with him now, wherever here was. Something entirely unfamiliar began blossoming within him and he called out to her with the Force even as he said her name aloud.

He reached for her familiar presence—only to feel the shock of its absence.

Had she left him after all?

 

He strode to the door, almost in a panic, yanking it open only to be greeted by a blast of icy wind and a swirl of snowflakes.

 

“Rey?” He called out to her again, frantically this time, clawing at the Force around him in his desperation to find her.

 

She had left him. Here. 

A familiar inky blackness roiled around the last Skywalker as he fell into a towering rage at the discovery. She had left him! She had abandoned him yet again, just as she had rejected him in Snoke's throne room. She had distracted him through their connection on Crait, the Scavenger had, and in leaving him so weak, so distracted, she’d been his downfall. He’d have sensed Hux’s shot had it not been for the sight of her! Now he was no longer Supreme Leader—he was nothing!

Untitled, powerless, and the fault was hers!

Why had she bothered to come back for him at all? For the briefest of moments he’d actually let himself believe it’d been because she cared—clearly not the case. She’d thrown him away—just like the rest of them.

Who _cared _that the Cortosis woven into the fabric of his clothing had saved him? Designed to limit the effects of Snoke’s frequent applications of Force lightning, it had prevented his death by redistributing the energy of the blaster bolt he’d sensed too late to completely deflect. All because the scavenger’s distraction had rendered him so shamefully weak!__

____

____

Pain and fear and anger coursed through Kylo Ren as he raced from point to point on what he soon discovered was an island. A bleak, miserable rock in the middle of a stormy sea. Skywalker’s island, he surmised. The very one he’d once seen in her mind. The irony wasn’t lost on him. 

The seductress had left him his lightsaber, at least, and with its hilt in his hands he’d flailed away at everything within reach in a blind frenzy of frustration and anger. His Force presence blazed as he’d raged away in the cold and the snow before finally regaining his senses and retreating to the warmth of his hut, utterly spent.

 

The odd, fishlike beings had come to him then. Caretakers of some sort, he supposed. At least he wouldn’t starve, or freeze to death. He’d thanked them awkwardly, extending them the first courtesies he’d uttered in years.

He hadn’t realized how ravenous he’d been, and he certainly felt better after wolfing down the fish stew they’d left him before scurrying off.

Before long he’d bundled himself up in the winter clothing they’d provided. He was determined to get a clearer sense of his prison.

 

Now that he was calmer he could feel himself being drawn to the island’s pinnacle. He had never felt such a powerful Force nexus and unquestioningly let his footsteps guide him through what was clearly a temple. Small wonder his uncle had come to this place, he mused.

The effort Luke had expended in Force projecting himself across the galaxy to confront him on Crait had cost him his life. Kylo could sense that and more now.

He paused for a moment to glance at a circular reflecting pool coated with a thin sheet of crystal clear ice. In its centre he could just make out a seated figure holding a sword so that it evenly bisected the space around it. 

He moved on, drawn to an opening that led to a windswept ledge and an enormous rock that jutted out over the raging seas below. 

He stepped out onto the boulder’s flat surface, noting the enormous fissure snaking through much of the lower ledge. He recalled creating other similar cracks himself on the island not long ago and idly wondered what had caused this one.

 

 

“I did.”

He heard Rey’s voice from somewhere behind him at the same instant he felt the odd sensation that always heralded a Force connection between them. 

Turning his back to the sea, he faced her. 

“You!” He snarled at the sight of her, his pale face a mask of fury.

“Yes, me! And here I thought you were quite finished!” Irritatingly, she cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting.

 

“You ruined everything! We could have had ANYTHING!” He was roaring again, his Force presence clouded with what felt like poison.

She silently regarded him, thankful the Force had led her to bring this angry, dangerous man to one of the most isolated locales in the galaxy. Her earlier conclusion that he was beyond her ability to fix had clearly been correct. Let the Force sort this one out as it would.

 

Even so, she felt herself losing her temper as he ranted at her. 

“I just saved you! I could have been killed doing it! I just saved your wretched hide, and this is how you thank me? What else was I supposed to do? Leave you there? The First Order blasted the place to bits shortly after we left! Should I have dropped you off on that Star Destroyer for someone to murder all over again? Or taken you back to your mother, to the Resistance? What else was I supposed to do with you, KYLO REN?”

He reacted as though he’d just been slapped across the face. It occurred to him how horribly wrong that name sounded coming from her lips.

 

Rey stalked toward him like a spitting cat, her eyes flashing.

He was taken aback, even knowing this was a Force connection and that she was unarmed.

Then she moved right past him on the narrow ledge, appearing to step beyond him and to the very edge of the icy rock so far above the raging sea.

 

He caught her by the arm, roughly pulling her from the slippery precipice and crushing her against the solidity of his chest. What had she been thinking? She could so easily have fallen and been dashed against the jagged rocks so far below.

 

“You could have fallen to your death!” he rasped angrily.

Then he remembered that she wasn’t there at all, not really. She hadn’t truly been in danger.

Yet her hands had instinctively come up and clutched at his woollen wrap. She was still clinging to him when he lowered his face to her upturned one. Something staggeringly powerful crackled between them as they touched. Struck by its sheer intensity they stared at each other, transfixed.

 

“You wouldn’t have let me.” Rey’s whisper finally broke the silence, her clear hazel eyes still riveted his own.

“What if I’d pushed you instead?” He growled. The bitter wind whipped strands of his raven hair against her face, he held her so close. 

 

“You’d never let me fall, Ben Solo.” 

 

The Force connection winked out and left him clutching empty space as snowflakes swirled all around him.

 

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many phrases (i.e. rude, destructive apprentice”) and descriptions related to the Lanais are verbatim or very similar to the text of TLJ novelization. I am just playing in a very large sandbox here. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Force loses its patience.

He stood atop the low cliff overlooking the slate grey sea, the toes of his boots at the edge of the moss-fringed hole gaping up at him from the blackness that lay at the heart of the island.

He had heard its insistent whispering for days; the darkness had been patient, knowing full well he would seek it in time.

He knew this to be the cave that had called to her, the scavenger, that night they’d reached to touch each other across the stars. In that moment it had felt as though the universe were holding its breath, and he’d felt his world tilting on its axis as a myriad of exhilarating possibilities burst into being.

None of which had come to pass—except, of course, with her by his side he had indeed broken free of his master’s chains.

‘Broken his chains’—how very Sith. Except that he was not a Sith, any more than he was a Jedi. 

Not that breaking free had done him any good. She’d refused him on the Supremacy. She hadn’t joined him—she’d rejected him completely. Then she’d saved him all over again, only to abandon him once more. He was nothing, now. No one.

He’d been alone on the island for several days. Completely alone, he’d realized. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Snoke’s voice was no longer in his head. And the Force had not shown any further inclination to connect him to the Scavenger. 

Confusion, anger, pain and fear all welled up within him as he stared into the frigid water bubbling and swirling below what in high tide became a blowhole. Practicality outweighed any other concerns he may have had as he methodically stripped himself, folding his warm clothing neatly and placing it beside his boots. He could easily channel the Force to preserve crucial body heat in the frigid depths but had no desire to don wet clothing upon his return.

The pale Ahch-To moon illuminated his tall, well-muscled figure, one whose skin hadn’t been kissed by sunlight in nearly a decade. Without hesitation Ren plunged into the inky blackness that called to him.

 

Ren was an excellent swimmer, raised as he was near the seashore on Chandrila. With powerful strokes he made his way to the far side of the pool and hauled himself out to face the polished stone mirror that was the heart of the chamber. 

The scavenger had told him what she’d asked the Force to show her in this place, foolish as she was in her way. She’d longed to know more of her parents, those who’d abandoned her so heartlessly. He felt nothing but contempt for their choice and hated how her yearning for them weakened her.

A familiar anger flared within him, coupled with pain and a longing he quickly snuffed out as he stood before the dark, polished stone.

He stretched both arms out toward it, resting his palms against its smooth, cold surface as he waited for it to show him what it would. Cold seawater dripped from his thick hair, running in rivulets down the sculpted planes of his chest as he stood frozen in the cave’s stillness. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply—

 

Only to have his breath catch in his chest as he was abruptly pulled into the stone itself, the Force roaring all around him. 

When he opened his eyes again, he saw her. Just her. Rey.

 

This Force Rey stared at him in shock, eyes wide and questioning. Was she suddenly afraid? Surely not—never her. Not of him! Hands trembling, he felt himself reaching out, gently putting his hands on her shoulders, attempting to reassure her—he hadn’t meant to lash out at her. Never her! He hadn’t meant it when he’d sworn to destroy her, he hadn’t meant any of it. Surely she knew that? Hadn’t she felt it? Surely all of his emotions were as nakedly obviously to her as the rest of him was in this strange cave—

Force Rey furrowed her brow, then reached up to run a tentative fingertip along the length of the scar marring his face. The one she’d marked him with on Starkiller. 

“I’m sorry...” she whispered. He wasn’t; she’d marked him as her own for all eternity.

Her hand left his face only to resume its journey down the angry scar that snaked down his torso, the Force crackling like lightning between them just as it had in the firelight not so very long ago.

Then this Rey closed the distance between them, and as he heard her silent question through the Force it felt as though a dam had burst deep inside him. Overcome by a towering passion he pulled her into his arms and claimed her with his mouth as her hands raked feverishly through his hair, urging him on as fiercely as they’d battled together for their very lives in Snoke’s throne room. The part of him so cruelly curbed by Snoke’s mocking viciousness burst into the light, an explosion of primal urges that had briefly flared when her hand had gripped his thigh for support during their throne room battle, all of it a singularly beautiful experience for him despite its urgency, its ferocity.

Rey had stirred a hunger in him that he’d never known, let alone slaked, and here at the heart of this sacred island she came to him with a fire and intensity that matched his own. The Force crackled and sang around them as he freed Rey from the clothing that impeded them and they met in a glorious joining that saw them both crying aloud for the sheer joy of it and shook him to the core of his being.

Tears were streaming down Rey’s face as she called him by his real name, his true name, the one he’d been born with. She was looking at him as if he were the miracle of water in the desert, and he knew in that moment that she’d come to him on the Supremacy because she’d believed in him in a way no one else in his life ever had.

When Snoke had torn into her mind so viciously he’d never hated him more, and he’d known then that Rey was hope, she was his salvation. He’d been a fool to have ever believed otherwise.

His father had been right—Snoke had been using him for his power, he did not have the power to ease his tortured soul. He never had.

He’d felt truth in his mother’s worry for him on the bridge of the Raddus, despite the monster he’d become. She still loved him.

This Rey’s arms were still wrapped around his neck and her fingers were tangled in his hair. He found himself kissing her eyelids, the tip of her nose, every inch of skin he could reach as he held her against the surprisingly warm stone of the mirror, her long legs still hitched around his hips. He buried his nose in her shoulder, tenderly pressing his mouth against where he’d roughly marked her tanned skin in the heat of the moment. Her unbound hair cascaded like a curtain around his face.

She was still crying; tears of happiness, he could feel it through their bond, a Force bond unlike any he’d ever read of. 

He had always known her, somehow.

She felt so warm, so real, so perfect in his arms as he kissed away the salty trails her tears were leaving on her radiant face.

Rey smiled into his eyes as she faded from his arms. 

Then the smooth stone wall she’d been pressed against shattered completely.


	5. Unheeded Message

Rey sat bolt upright, completely disoriented.

She didn’t bother blurting any out loud but a multitude of colourful curses crossed her mind. She could see that her clothes had been strewn haphazardly about her. She hadn’t been asleep—had she? Had that been some bizarre, unthinkably wild dream? Not that dreaming would in any way explain the state of her clothing. 

The sensations that had always accompanied her Force connections with...him...had been notably absent. So it hadn’t been that—had it? 

She swallowed, recalling the vivid intensity of whatever that had been. A dream? A vision? Not a creation solely of her own imagining. She didn’t have the personal experience to draw upon, not to conjure anything of the like. Risking anything of that nature, anything that left her so potentially vulnerable, could very well have resulted in her getting her throat slit back on Jakku. 

They had been in the cave together, the cave beneath the island. Had she actually been there at all? Had that truly been him? Had that—everything that had exploded between them like wildfire—had it been real? It had been intense—gloriously intense. And for the first time, it had felt like she’d been where she truly belonged. What had Maz’s words to her been? The part about belonging?

 

Every fibre of her being screamed for her to turn Snoke’s shuttle around and go right back for him.

She hurriedly dressed, taking her place at the shuttle’s controls. Fortunately the ship had been on autopilot.

The sudden blinking of the binary beacon told her she was nearing wherever Leia and the others had taken refuge. 

The closer she got to her intended destination, the more urgently the Force shrieked at her to turn back. To go home. Home was...him? That was new. She was torn. Surely she should heed what she was feeling, yet Leia’s oddly flickering Force presence and a yearning to see the first friends she’d ever had eventually won out. 

She approached the planet with caution. Snoke’s shuttle was equipped with incredibly sophisticated sensor evading technology but she could not be certain of what she would encounter upon her arrival. 

By her calculations it was night where Leia and the others were, but knowing Chewie’s nocturnal tendencies she opened a channel using one of the frequencies he’d provided her with and commed the Falcon.

The Wookie didn’t answer, but a signal from the binary beacon was enough to tell her that her approach had been noted.

To her surprise, when she entered atmosphere she was met by two fighters and directed to a landing platform.

When she landed she was shocked to discover a massive hangar filled nearly to capacity with a variety of light fighters and transports. Where had all of these ships suddenly come from?

Barely more than a week had passed since Crait.

 

As soon as she stepped off the shuttle’s ramp she was enveloped by a pair of great hairy arms and literally swept off her her feet by Chewie’s enthusiastic greeting. The touch-starved part of Rey’s soul drank up the unreserved affection, so readily given by the outwardly intimidating Wookie. How was it that she felt so safe with towering beings nearly everyone else kept well clear of? Chewie assured her that the others would be happy to hear of her return. No doubt the Stormtrooper would be especially pleased to see her in the morning.

Relieved to find his newly adopted little one in one piece, Chewie began sorrowfully describing Leia’s rapid decline and what appeared to be her imminent demise. His head hung dejectedly. Then he chuffed a series of questions and examined her more closely. 

“How did it go with him? He’s safe. What do you mean, ‘like that’?” 

If the Wookie’d been capable of raising an eyebrow, he would have. 

Rey twisted her head to try to see what Chewie had noticed but she herself hadn’t—the distinct mark in the hollow of her neck, just above her collarbone. She blushed furiously, momentarily flustered, and tried to pull the neckline of her tunic more closely around her in order to conceal what Chewie had spotted. He ended up gingerly tugging some of what he referred to as her ‘drapery’ over the mark in question. He wanted to spare her anyone else’s questions.

“As bad as his father? Chewie, this didn’t happen quite the way you think!” Had it?

The Wookie just smirked. 

“What do you mean, I’m even wearing his clothes?” Chewbacca had just informed her that the tunic and belt she was wearing had once belonged to a younger Ben Solo. 

“That hardly counts!” she sputtered, even as a sudden warmth flooded through her at the thought. “You’re the one who suggested I get myself something dry out of that locker.” 

Chewie had insisted that she change out of her soaked clothing on the Falcon en route to the Supremacy. There hadn’t exactly been many options available.

 

 

Chewie filled her in on all she’d missed, the Resistance having found itself many new allies in her brief absence. When Leia had slipped into a coma shortly after having led them to their new base, the leadership had even begun entertaining the possibility of working together with the Hutts. 

“The Hutts?” That was difficult to picture. Impossible for Chewie, he insisted. Apparently Chewbacca couldn’t condone any sort of alliance with the Hutt crime syndicate, not even in the name of bringing down the First Order.

Too much history, he’d grumbled. So he’d told Dameron, Wexley and the others that he was intending to take a break after after Leia passed. To visit his family.

Which was true...from a certain point of view.

He was intent on returning to Ahch-To with the Falcon. Apparently the Porgs had tired of interstellar adventuring and wished to return home. (Wait, Porgs were sentient?) Besides, that was where she’d stashed his misguided nephew, was it not?

He’d return to Kashyyk, yes, but only after he’d seen Han and Leia’s son with his own eyes. He was family—and they were due for a reckoning.

 

He had only left Leia’s side because he had wanted to greet Rey when she arrived. Rey let Chewie pull her into another shaggy embrace. She could only imagine how difficult Leia’s passing would be for him, coming so soon after Han’s and Luke’s.

Wordlessly, the scavenger and the Wookie made their way to Leia’s side to maintain a silent vigil.

 

 

 

+


	6. A Slender Thread

The matron took a moment to observe the tall one as he sat on the rocky ledge beyond the temple. He’d been there for hours now, cross-legged and motionless. 

He’d taken to sitting there after his nocturnal visit to the cave beneath the island, the one every Outsider eventually visited. It could only be accessed at low tide. Not that any of her people had ever felt so inclined.

This tall one had been the first Outsider to have discarded his clothing afterward. He obviously hadn’t worn it into the cave either, as it was completely dry. He had left his dark garments behind—much like a snake shedding its skin, she decided. He must have made the journey back to his hut as naked as a newborn babe. 

There had been much debate over what to do with the clothing in question once it was discovered the following morning. A decision had needed to be made before the next high tide—otherwise it would have been swept out to sea. In the end, it was decided that the inky black garments be moved a safe distance away from the farthest the waters would reach but close enough to where he had left them that he could retrieve them should he choose to do so. Some of the clothing from the repository would fit his tall frame well enough. That left only the difficulty of his boots, which they’d elected to take to his hut along with the clothing from their stores. Boots were harder to come by. If he wished to go barefoot rather than wear the boots he’d arrived in, so be it.

The weather had warmed slightly, the unseasonably early snows having melted away for the time being. But you wouldn’t catch her sitting on a chilly rock like that for any length of time, no indeed.

At least he wasn’t staring down into the sea from the dizzying precipice any longer—the way he’d been gazing into the depths had suggested a possible inclination to follow a path more than one Outsider had taken before him. There were songs of those.

No, this one’s eyes were firmly fixed on the horizon now. She was glad of it. For all of his earlier ranting and raging, there was no getting past this one’s eyes. They were beautiful—his soul was beautiful—but when she’d first looked into them those eyes had told her he was very lost. She wondered if he would be found. Or if he already had been.

It seemed like more soup was in order after all.

 

+++++

 

Ben closed his eyes, tilting his face up toward the faint warmth of Ahch-To’s wintry sunlight. 

The nondescript grey clothing he’d bundled himself in kept the worst of the chill at bay and he drew on the Force just enough to keep himself sufficiently warm.

So strange, how he could leave his mind so blank now, so empty. Sitting here at this mighty Force nexus was so...peaceful. He could feel darkness and light swirling about him, yet the two were not fighting each other. There was a rhythm to it, it felt like an intricate dance.

It had never been so before.

It was so comforting, so—new. He could not recall a time when he had been alone in his head like this, let alone when the Force had felt like this. Not ever. He wondered if this was how an infant felt when it first opened its eyes in wonder.

It was dawning on him how truly Snoke had ruled him. 

He had only ever felt conflict between the light and the darkness, and the constant pain of nearly being torn apart between them. Yet right here, right now, there was no battle. He felt...balanced?

It was a relief.

He felt somewhat cowardly, admitting to himself that he was relieved to be there, where no one had any expectations of him, where no one could hurt him. (He could hurt no one.)

No one could disappoint him. (He could disappoint no one.)

He feared no one. (And no one would fear him.) Memories were constantly resurfacing now, painful memories he’d thrust away, of whispered conversations he’d overheard, almost always about the darkness within him. He’d always been able to sense the emotions of those around him as easily as breathing, so whispering behind closed doors had spared him nothing. His own parents had clearly been afraid of him...Luke had feared him enough to try and kill him in his sleep, putting him down like a mad beast. Those he’d loved most of all, the ones the galaxy hailed as heroes, had utterly rejected all that he was. Had he always been that monster? 

He was finally alone with his thoughts and forced to face all that he had done in the name of reconciling the darkness and the light within him. He had done evil things, that he knew. He’d recognized them as such even while he was committing those heinous acts, but he’d been so desperately afraid...he could see that, now. There had been enough darkness in him for even the legendary Luke Skywalker to see there was no hope for him, so it had been obvious that his could never be the path of the Jedi. Snoke had whispered to him that there was another path, a different one, one that could lead him to all that he sought. And when Snoke had become his new master, when he had assured him that once he’d extinguished the light within himself he would ascend to new heights of power—the darkness had failed him just as surely as the light. His unravelling had begun on that bridge on the Starkiller when he had killed his father. The act had weakened him, not strengthened him as he’d been promised. He was a total failure.

He’d always disappointed those whose approval he’d craved. But in his heart he’d always been desperate for a means to end the pain and conflict within his own soul. His was divided, it was tortured. He’d always been so afraid, and all he ever felt was pain. Sometimes it seemed as though the galaxy was writhing in agony along with him. He had sworn to himself he would find the means to end the suffering. There had seemed nowhere to turn.

Until her. She was still with him, even now. Not in his head, of course. But he could sense her almost as if she was inside him somehow, blazing a promise in the Force.

It was true—he was no longer alone. 

He recalled all that had come to pass in the throne room. She had been fiercely brilliant, so fiery and passionate. She hadn’t fought like a Jedi at all!

His uncle would have been appalled.

He himself had been enthralled.

Almost to the point of distraction. And then he’d felt it—because their minds had been linked so intimately, he’d felt it, too—the moment during that struggle when she’d discovered something new, something profound. He craved that for himself, although the precise nature of her discovery still eluded him. 

 

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes once more. He reached out—and brushed against his bondmate’s consciousness as lightly as if he’d held a feather and touched it to the softness of her cheek. 

He was rewarded with an answering warmth that flooded his soul with comfort. His eyes flew open at the contact. This they had never tried before. It had always been the Force choosing to connect them, even in...the cave. 

The sensation was fleeting, but it soothed him nonetheless.

 

Had he ever felt so comforted, so reassured, by any other?

 

Yes.

There had once been another who could calm him with a thought, reach him when he was desperately afraid. The same one whose rejection had cut him so completely to the quick and whose fear he was some sort of monster had become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

She was the one he’d nearly fired on, the one who’d given birth to him. The one he’d believed had died when his wingmate had taken the shot he couldn’t make when he’d sensed her true feelings for him coursing through the Force during that attack on the Raddus.

He reached for her now, something he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do since before he’d been banished to Luke’s temple.

He reached out and sought the presence so long obscured by his own rage and pain, no doubt clouded even further by Snoke’s unrelentingly whispered poisons. 

His mother loved him, she worried for him still. It was utterly astounding. One didn’t worry about something they’d discarded, did they? He had sensed how badly she’d wanted him back, even after what he had done to his own father. Her husband. It had been astonishing, it had genuinely shocked him.

Leia’s tortured son felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His mind found hers so easily, now that he didn’t shy away from it and it was no longer blocked from him by Snoke’s malignant presence.

Her. The familiar warmth who’d always been with him, who’d comforted him when he’d been small and lost. He had lost her somehow. He was still lost. But perhaps not completely.

It was as if the finest of threads still connected them—different than the bond he shared with Rey—but it led him straight to her, to his mother.

She was still wondrous and glowing in the Force. Hers was a different type of presence than Rey’s, reassuring in its own way. It was his earliest memory, he realized. That familiar, comforting presence. But now he sensed something unusual...it was flickering. What could that mean? He brushed his mind against his mother’s much more hesitantly than he had sought Rey’s moments ago. 

How would his mother respond? It had been so long...but then she answered him in what felt almost like colours, a kaleidoscope of joy, relief, and most of all, love. He felt her heart sing with it as he never had before. 

+++++ 

The medical droid briefly scanned the readings indicating General Organa’s current status. By its calculations there was no longer any possibility of her emerging from the coma she’d slipped into upon her arrival at this facility. The radiation poisoning she’d been subjected to had seen to that. It had been certain to document her case thoroughly. That she had survived at all after having being ejected into the vacuum of space was nothing short of what humanoids would term miraculous.

It was just as well that all those who’d needed to say their goodbyes had already done so. General Dameron had just departed. He’d been there for the third time tonight, even though it was currently the middle of the sleep cycle. He had taken the one he’d called the ‘little Jedi’ with him, insisting she get some rest. That left only the Wookie, unless one took into account the golden protocol droid stationed just outside the door. Rumoured to be a very opinionated unit, the protocol droid seemed to have lost its capacity for speech.

The Wookie had barely left the General’s side since she’d slipped into her coma. For such a large, intimidating creature it appeared remarkably small and lost. When the new General and the Jedi girl had left, the Wookie had taken Princess Leia’s hand and hadn’t let it go. Yes, the diminutive figure lying in that bed was the celebrated Princess, General, former Senator and true heroine for all those who valued freedom in the galaxy. Such a tiny human, this one who had accomplished so much. Size mattered not, it concluded.

The droid finished its tasks and was preparing to exit the room when General Organa’s monitors began flashing wildly.

Although her eyes remained closed, the droid witnessed the General’s face transforming from a blank, expressionless mask into a one of absolute joy. 

”Ben?” The General was whispering. ”Ben.” 

The General smiled. Then Leia, princess of Alderaan, became one with the Force.


	7. Chapter 7

“Don’t go.”

His voice was a pained whisper. Rey could see Ben where he sat in the firelight’s glow, hunched over, his head in his hands.

“I don’t want to disturb you.”

The Force had been whipped into a frenzy by this man’s tumultuous emotions, erratic waves of it crashing wildly through the entire galaxy at Leia Organa’s passing. The depths of Ben Solo’s pain had created a terrifying whirlpool strong enough to drown in. 

Rey felt faintly nauseous at her attempts to fight through it and resist being overcome by the maelstrom. He was staggeringly powerful, this last of the Skywalkers. Small wonder Snoke had meant to keep him chained.

Rey had willed herself to him through their bond this time. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed it, but she had sworn to him that he was not alone, and surely he needed—-someone—at a time like this. 

Perhaps this was the very reason the Force had been urging her to go back to him rather than return to Leia and the Resistance just a few short hours ago. If so, why had it not simply connected them just as it always had? Why had her own attempts to reach him been so firmly rebuffed? Or had that been Ben’s doing? It had felt more like the Force itself was trying to keep Rey from her bondmate now, and every bit as strongly as it had been urging her toward him earlier—which made no sense. The sudden resistance was confusing. Alarming, even. 

But here she was, unsure of her welcome.

 

 

Ben’s dark mop of hair hung over his face, a stark contrast to the white of the rough linen shirt he’d left unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare. He was wearing dark trousers and familiar black boots. Something silvery glinted in his right hand. Rey gasped when she saw him bring a sharp blade up, only to watch him use it to hack away at the clump of black hair he’d clenched in his other fist.

“Don’t go,” Ben repeated, ever so softly—without looking up. “Please.” She saw his shoulders slump. She couldn’t help but recall the last time she’d heard him say that word, and he’d obviously just done the same. After a long pause, he added, “Your presence is...soothing.”

 

Rey watched in silence as he seized another fistful of hair and crudely hacked away at it with what now appeared to be an archaic shaving implement.

He was dropping each clump of shorn hair into the fire, where the flames licked away at it before releasing the sickening stench of sulphur. That she could smell it so strongly and see Ben’s surroundings so clearly surely meant that their bond was deepening. 

“It’s the keratin burning.” A quiet comment, one he made while staring into the flames. He still hadn’t looked at her.

Rey marvelled that he knew her thoughts as easily as she could now sense his emotions.

 

Wordlessly he explained the significance of his actions.

In her heart his mother had been a true daughter of Alderaan—had Rey known that Leia had been forced to witness her home planet’s destruction with her own eyes, Darth Vader’s black-gloved hand on her shoulder all the while? Reason enough for her to hate the man she later came to know as her father. A truth everyone had conspired to keep from him...

Hair had tremendous significance in Alderaanian culture and was traditionally used to convey all manner of messages. Had Rey noticed the mourning braid in Leia’s hair, the one she’d worn for Han? 

(Not really, no. But the few times she’d seen her Leia’s hair had always looked beautiful, now that she thought about it. How had Ben seen his mother so recently?) 

He hadn’t. He simply could never have imagined his mother not wearing mourning for her husband, no matter how tempestuous their relationship had always been. Mourning braids were traditional for daughters of Alderaan when a close family member died. Males cut their hair and burned it instead, sometimes even shaving their heads.

Rey silently wished he wouldn’t go quite that far—

—“I don’t have that right”, he choked. “I was never the son she deserved. I killed the man she married, I am the only reason her brother is no longer alive, and I very nearly ended her as well.”

Ben’s self-loathing coursed through their bond and Rey reached out to steady his suddenly trembling hand, the one that gripped the archaic straight-edged razor so fiercely his knuckles whitened.

Ben closed his eyes at the contact of Rey’s skin against his own. He calmed instantly at the balm it provided.

“Can I help you finish?” Rey said quietly, daring to touch his face with her free hand and tilt it up so she could look into his eyes.

They were so haunted.

She felt his silent assent and stood in front of him where he sat, gently carding her fingers through his silken hair and attempting to cut it the rest of it more evenly than he had.

Ben closed his eyes once more. He couldn’t help but thrill to the sensation of her fingertips grazing his scalp despite the solemnity of their task. Rey carefully passed him each lock as she cut it, steeling herself to ignore the acrid smoke it produced as Ben Solo tossed it by the handful into the fire.

As her nimble fingers worked away Ben eased his mind open to hers more fully, savouring the achingly beautiful sensation of Rey’s entering it when he invited her to. It was so different from the harshness and brutality of their mental entanglement on the Starkiller. He was sharing some of his most precious memories of his mother, ones he’d locked away for ages—so deep had been his sense of her rejection. 

Those memories flowed as freely as his tears now, images and feelings from what felt like a lifetime ago—bedtime stories, warm embraces, favourite songs...gazing at starscapes and naming constellations, calligraphy lessons, brushing and braiding Leia’s gorgeous hair...(he’d known how to do that?)...yes, she’d taught him how. He’d especially loved doing his mother’s hair, because that was when he’d have her all to himself and they’d talk and talk...

“Show me,” Rey whispered as she sat down beside him on his pallet. Ben’s breath caught as she pulled three leather ties loose so that her own hair cascaded down to her shoulders—she had no idea what that meant to someone raised in the tradition he had been—and then he saw her cheeks flush at what had suddenly become clear to her. 

”Wait,” he said quietly, before she could change her mind now that she knew the direction his thoughts were headed. He reached behind her to retrieve a crude comb from the ledge at the head of his bed, one carved of bone, which the matron had thought to provide him with.

Keeping his mind carefully blank—because touching Rey’s hair had suddenly become an incredibly erotic prospect—he combed Rey’s hair out, skilfully smoothing away any snarls or tangles.

He could feel how raw her emotions were. Rey had no memory of anyone else’s hands doing something as simple as styling her hair. He knew she’d clung to her distinctive three-bun style for so long in the vain hope that those who’d left her would return for her one day and recognize her more easily—but she had blotted out any recollection of the hands who’d first made those buns as thoroughly as she’d locked away every other memory of her earliest years. The simple act of him combing out her hair for her was bringing Rey to tears. He felt anger flare within him toward those who’d abandoned her so.

Pushing the thought away, he considered for a moment. What would best suit her? Then his fingers settled into a familiar rhythm and he deftly braided Rey’s tresses into something resembling a crown around her head. It flattered her and would also stay out of her way when she was tinkering away at repairs, or while she was training. Preferably with him. Then he added a small mourning braid—which was technically a twist, not a true braid at all—to the side of her head, appropriately positioned for one who mourned Leia despite how briefly they’d known each other.

“It would be more polished with pins instead of ties.” Those were the only words he said aloud. He sat down beside her again, one hand somehow remaining at the nape of her neck, his thumb resting gently against her cheek. He couldn’t bring himself to break the contact. Nor did she pull away. They were staring at each other, starved for more than these fleeting touches, both bursting with all that was still unsaid between them. 

Rey held her breath and and traced the angry scar she’d seared into his flesh on Starkiller with a tentative fingertip. He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek ever so slightly into the palm of her hand. 

“That’s when you forever marked me as yours,” she heard him murmur. 

“The cave...” Rey lowered her eyes for a moment before raising them to meet the almost frightening intensity of his dark gaze before continuing. “How much of that...was any of it real?” 

He watched as she bit her lower lip awkwardly. Then he brushed his thumb lightly along the softness of that same lip, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Sometimes, when you believe something to be real, it becomes real. Real enough, anyway...” Ben touched her chin and drew the pad of his thumb along Rey’s jawline, his fathomless eyes smouldering.

“So...was it? Real?” Rey whispered in response.

“I think you know.” With that, he closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against hers until he felt her deepen that precious kiss. 

All the barriers that had ever existed between them fell away. There would be no more secrets between these souls. 

And then Rey screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberally sprinkled with Anakin/Padme dialogue that I had to look up, as I am not terribly familiar with the prequels.


	8. South Passage

Rose Tico lay alone in the darkness wondering why she had awakened so unexpectedly; she was normally an exceptionally sound sleeper. She swung her legs over the edge of her bunk when she felt a strong jolt shake her quarters and send random objects clattering to the floor.

Had the First Order found them? Were they under attack?

No alarms blared but Rose hurriedly activated some illumination. She pulled off her sleeping shift and quickly threw on something more practical—not that she owned any clothing that wasn’t. She had to brace herself to prevent being thrown from her feet as another tremor rocked the base.

Could this be an earthquake? Highly unlikely given their current location. However, it wasn’t impossible. 

Rose grabbed her blaster and keyed her door open.

 

Rose’s chambers were relatively isolated. She’d been released from the medbay only two days earlier so, unlike most personnel, she was quartered outside the main barracks. She knew herself to be the sole occupant of this particular corridor branching off the South Passage.

To her surprise, the doorway of the room opposite her own was wide open. Odd, as no one had been assigned to that chamber as of last night. Rose immediately looked toward the main passage. Through the dust and falling debris clouding the junction where it met this smaller corridor she could see two figures, a man and a woman. 

She didn’t recognize either one of them; hardly unusual given the large number of new recruits constantly flocking to the base. What struck her about this pair was how they seemed utterly oblivious to the chaos raining down around them.

Rose could tell that the young woman was frantic. She kept shrieking “No, no!” at the tall man in the white shirt as she pummelled his chest with her fists. That had to have hurt, but the man seemed unconcerned. He was more focussed on soothing her as she flailed away at him in her frenzy. He alternated between holding her wrists firmly and cradling her against him whenever she calmed—which was never for longer than seconds at a time.

They were less than five metres away so Rose could actually hear him speaking in a low voice to the dark haired girl. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. The man’s hands cupped the young woman’s face tenderly and then he kissed her gently on the forehead. For the briefest of moments the shaking and rumbling ceased.

The young woman balled her fists again and screamed in what seemed like agony. This time the lighting in the corridor flickered and an enormous crack rent the floor.

The frantic girl was clutching the man’s shirt in what looked to be desperation and he looked agonized. At a quick wave of his hand the girl appeared to lose consciousness, slumping into his waiting arms. The rumbling ceased at once.

Holding the young woman as if she weighed nothing at all, the tall man looked shocked when he glanced about him to take stock of his surroundings. He appeared to be considering his next move when his gaze landed on Rose.

 

The sound of running footsteps echoed from further down the South Passage. The tall stranger ducked around the corner toward her so that he moved to within a metre of Rose. He kept his broad back to her as Finn, the Wookie Chewbacca and four armed troops rounded the corner.

Rose saw Finn’s eyes move between her and the two other figures. 

“Rose! You’re alright!” Then he paused. “Rey?” Rose saw Finn’s eyes widen in confused recognition. When the ex-Stormtrooper came even closer and got a better look at the man holding the girl—this Rey who Rose had heard so much about—the amiable Finn’s expression transformed into one of outright hostility.

“Kylo Ren?” Finn practically spat the name in revulsion. He brought his blaster up and trained it on Ren’s head. “Not this time!” 

Rose found herself gaping at the scene in astonishment. None of this made any sense! The man cradling Rey like she was the most precious thing in the universe was none other than Kylo Ren? The same Kylo Ren the First Order had just declared a traitor, and a dead one at that? It made no sense.

What happened next didn’t, either.

A stun bolt dropped Kylo Ren—who was still holding Rey protectively—to the ground.

No one dared stop Chewbacca when the fierce looking Wookie strode forward, hauling Ren’s unconscious figure up off the floor and flinging him over his shoulder like he was nothing more than a sack of kartulid. Chewie gestured with a jerk of his head for Finn to collect Rey.

No one interfered when Chewbacca stalked off to the detention bay with his captive.

 

 

Finn brushed an errant strand of hair away from Rey’s face, thinking that her hair looked pretty braided so cleverly. She was still unconscious. Rey had bumped her head when Kylo Ren had fallen to the ground, but that and whatever Ren had done to her would apparently not have serious repercussions. 

Finn was shocked to learn that Rey had been mildly sedated for the time being. She’d hit her head, so that course of treatment seemed to defy logic. The medical droid had argued strenuously against that measure, complying only when acting General Dameron had ordered it. The Wookie Chewbacca had been strangely insistent about sedation—he’d been the one to convince Dameron to begin with. Not one for offering many opinions, he’d apparently been extremely concerned that Force-sensitive Rey was so emotionally traumatized. Since the Wookie had far more experience than anyone else in dealing with Jedi, his advice had been deferred to.

Finn found he had to admire Chewie’s quick thinking in dealing with Kylo Ren and saving Rey from the monster who’d once again had her in his clutches. Finn’s own basic training had kicked in when he’d had Ren in his sights, but that training hadn’t exactly promoted the use of stun bolts. As a result, he hadn’t even considered that option. He was still angry at himself for having frozen.

Poe had reminded him that the Wookie was over two centuries old. That meant Chewbacca’d had more time than most to learn a thing or two about tactics. Small wonder that he’d taken down the monster who’d killed Han Solo even before he’d had a chance to use the Force—or that vicious lightsaber of his. Not that the saber had been found on him when Ren had been tossed into a high-security cell and drugged for everyone’s safety. 

Finn felt Rose squeeze his hand reassuringly from where she sat beside him. Poe had just left. He’d asked Finn and Rose for as many details as they could recall regarding the events that had literally shaken the base so badly. That, coupled with the announcement of Leia’s death—which would be officially announced mid-morning to those outside a very small circle—would be a lot for everyone to process. There had been private, hushed discussions of eliminating Kylo Ren permanently. The man posed an enormous security risk. The Resistance would normally give even the most vile prisoner trial, of course. But these times were fraught with peril and the new leadership was uncertain it could contain him adequately for long.

Neither Finn nor Poe knew Rose Tico well enough to realize she’d been holding her tongue. Yes, she’d answered every question she’d been asked directly and honestly. 

But Rose could not bring herself to tell them that she was sure they were misinterpreting events. After all, she had seen Rey and Kylo Ren together in the South Passage.

Kylo Ren hadn’t been the one tearing the base apart with his mind. It had been the young woman lying unconscious before them on her cot in the medbay, the one some had taken to calling the ‘Light of the Resistance’. Kylo Ren had been the one trying to calm her down. It hadn’t escaped Rose’s notice that the tremors and chaos had ceased the moment he had somehow knocked the Jedi out.

Was it a betrayal, not mentioning that the one called Jedi Killer had clearly been trying to help the Last Jedi? Or would it be more of a betrayal to mention it?

The celebrated Rey was safe. The base was safe. Kylo Ren was safely locked away and reportedly under heavy sedation.

In that moment Rose decided that keeping her own counsel might be best. 

She and Finn looked up to see Chewbacca enter the room and sit down on the other side of the cot. They saw him take Rey’s hand in his own. Apparently she’d made a strong impression on more than just a few people.

Getting some sleep suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Rose and Finn nodded politely to the intimidating Wookie before exiting.

The medical droid entered as they left. It efficiently checked its new patient’s vitals before preparing to depart as briskly as it had entered. This was the same Wookie from earlier in the evening, it noted to itself. Same Wookie, different dark-haired female patient. Only, this one would make a full recovery. As it turned to leave, it saw the unconscious human female clutch the Wookie’s huge hairy hand in agitation. Her eyelids fluttered and he heard her mumbling. 

“Ben”, was all she said. 

The same Wookie. Two female patients with dark hair. Both females going on about someone named Ben. What was the statistical probability of that? It made the calculations for its own amusement as it trundled off to its next patient.

+

Both guards looked up in surprise as the large Wookie and the golden protocol droid approached the high security cell. It was so early that breakfast hadn’t even been served in the canteen. The majority of personnel had been given permission to sleep later than usual given the mysterious disruptions of just a few hours ago. Even fewer people were around than would normally be at this hour.

The golden droid addressed the guards at once: “The prisoner is expected to be fully conscious very shortly. We are to escort him to his next location.”

The guard closest to the keypad furrowed his brow before replying. “We haven’t received notification of a prisoner transfer.”

“Of course you haven’t, given the sensitivity of the situation.” The protocol droid’s tone was most understanding.

The guards looked at each other. 

“Chewbacca assures me these Force-suppressing restraints were designed by none other than Master Luke Skywalker himself.” The protocol droid directed their attention to the cuffs the Wookie held in one enormous hand. 

Both guards eyed the rather officious golden droid—everyone knew this was General Organa’s personal protocol droid—and the silent, formidable Wookie, a living legend and hero of the Rebellion. If anyone was permitted to bend the rules, surely this pair qualified. Besides, the Wookie might be the only one the higher-ups trusted to ensure a safe prisoner transfer in this case. After all, rumour had it he’d been the one to capture Kylo Ren in the first place. Everything regarding this prisoner was being kept very hush-hush, that much was certain. The guards looked at each other again in silent conference before the guard closest to the keypad gave a curt nod and keyed in the access code to the cell. Both trained their blasters on the doorway nervously. The Wookie ignored their caution, striding right into the cell.

Chewbacca growled menacingly at the still-groggy prisoner slumped in the corner. Kylo Ren’s pale face quite possibly blanched a shade further at the sight of the towering Wookie advancing toward him so purposefully.

The Wookie barked an instruction to the prisoner, and the mighty Kylo Ren’s wrists were clapped into restraints before he was even able to do much more than lift his head. The guards then witnessed the most dangerous man in the galaxy being frog-marched out of his cell none too gently by the angry-looking Wookie, who dwarfed even his massive frame. They watched in nothing short of awe as Chewbacca nonchalantly escorted his prisoner down the corridor and right out of the detention block, the golden droid hurrying along in his wake.

Chewie and Threepio guided Ben Solo through another series of corridors. None who encountered them saw fit to question them. Only a handful of people even knew that Kylo Ren had ever been here at all, let alone that he’d been captured. The pair led their surprisingly passive captive directly into the hangar bay where the Millennium Falcon awaited, marching him straight up the ramp.

Chewbacca already had clearance for departure.


	9. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to incorporate one of the many supposed Episode IX ‘spoilers’ into what I’d originally planned for this tale. (Working it in has taken some mental gymnastics but was good fun.)
> 
> Should you prefer to avoid encountering specific reference to it, simply stop reading this chapter when you reach the ***************************  
> and skip ahead to the summary at the end of the chapter. The details will not be referred to at any future point in this little fanfic. 
> 
> I don’t have any claim to Star Wars in any way/shape/form, but all of us writing/reading SW fanfics presumably love it. I certainly don’t have any desire to ruin anything for anyone should this particular plot thread actually end up being legit.

*

Chewie shoved his captive out of the way, striding toward the Falcon’s cockpit without a backward glance as he prepared for a hasty departure. He growled an order to his groggy nephew as he left the main cabin.

Get rid of the cuffs? Ben had figured out how to manipulate the Force in order to escape from standard restraints by the tender age of eight. It had been a game they’d sometimes played, he and the Wookie. The cuffs snicked and dropped harmlessly into Ben’s lap as he did just that. 

There had been nothing remotely Force-suppressing about the restraints his uncle had clapped onto his wrists. He’d known it the instant they’d touched him, but had gone along with the charade Chewie and Threepio had no doubt concocted between the two of them. He sighed at how little some things ever changed. He might have expected as much. He’d grown up with the stories.

“Nice bluff, Goldenrod.” Ben’s voice cracked with emotion as he made use of one of his father’s many names for the golden protocol droid who’d been a fixture of his childhood.

Threepio had scurried over to join Artoo, who looked a lot dingier than Ben had ever remembered seeing him.

“Master Ben.” Threepio nodded his head in impeccably well-mannered acknowledgement despite the nervous tone of his voice. Artoo refused to acknowledge his existence.

Fair enough. Some things had changed. For obvious reasons.

 

Ben raked his fingers through his hair before resting his head on his arms against the smooth surface of the holochess table. The same one he’d sat at countless times before—

However had he gotten here at all? What had happened? How had he managed to physically leave the island and end up smack dab in the middle of the Resistance base? Oh, it had been because of how he and Rey had been so intimately linked, that much was obvious. Only, how had that worked? The man who could redirect blaster bolts with his thoughts alone mulled over what felt like an impossibility.

Rey. Ben felt almost physical pain at their separation. Their minds had been so perfectly melded—it had been so heady, so exhilarating —and then she’d seen it. The truth, from his memory of what he’d been shown of her subconscious. It was bound to come to light eventually. Of course it was, even though she’d buried all recollection of it as deeply as anything he’d ever hidden away from himself. Not that it had ever helped. 

It had actually felt like the Force had been trying to tear them apart before that moment; now he thought he understood why. Then she’d been ripped away from him after the shock of her discovery had shaken her too badly to help him maintain their mutual connection. He’d felt Rey’s anguish and had put forth a monumental effort to claw his way back to her. Astonishingly, he’d physically joined her in doing so. He shook his head in wonder. For it had been across time and space. 

“Where’s Rey?”

Threepio tried to sound encouraging. “By all accounts she is resting comfortably in the infirmary. She sustained no serious injuries. She has been lightly sedated, as it appears she has suffered a tremendous shock.”

That was a massive understatement. Ben was feeling queasy. On the island he had felt the rhythm of the Force flowing around him so harmoniously, almost as if it were singing. He had never felt the like. Had he and Rey been wiser, had they not resisted what now felt like a warning to disengage from each other before their minds had linked so perfectly, would they be apart now? Wouldn’t it have been better if she’d discovered the truth when they were together, when they were somewhere truly safe? When he could have helped her as she’d once helped him? One thing was certain—Rey should not be alone. Or afraid.

He reached out to her through their link, the one the Force had granted them for its own mysterious purposes. It had begun to feel to Ben as if the Force actually had a will, a purpose. He had never felt even an inkling of that in all his time with Skywalker or Snoke. As for the bond they shared, despite what Snoke had said Ben was fairly certain he and Rey had played some part in forging it through their own choices. They had surely made it stronger. 

He could always sense Rey now. It was as though a part of her burned inside him.

His own mind brushed against the edges of Rey’s ever so softly as he sent warmth and reassurance to her as best he could. Ben Solo was tapping into feelings he himself had long been a stranger to.

He felt it then, the faint spark of her recognition. It seemed muzzy. He considered for a moment before deciding that must be on account of her sedation.

Nevertheless, she would surely feel his promise that she was not alone and that he hadn’t abandoned her.

He would never be afraid of her.

Chewie’s loud roar summoned him to the Falcon’s cockpit. The Wookie was seated in the copilot’s chair, exactly where he’d always been in Ben’s memories. Ben was mildly surprised to notice several of the avians he recognized from the island huddled in his uncle’s lap. Another one poked its head out of the upholstery of the seat behind the enormous Wookie. Ben could only imagine how his other uncle would have shuddered at the Falcon’s present state. 

His uncle Lando. He wondered if that old smooth talker was still alive.

Chewie was growling at him to sit.

To sit.

In that chair. 

The last place in the galaxy he had any right to. Not after what he’d done to the man who belonged there. 

Chewie barked the command this time. 

So Ben reluctantly sat down in Han Solo’s chair. He lasted approximately two minutes before his shoulders began to shake with long-suppressed sobs. 

Chewie silently set coordinates and manned the controls until the Millennium Falcon made the jump into hyperspace. Then the shaggy Wookie stood, gruffly announcing that he intended to catch up on the sleep he’d done without for the past three days.

*

*

************************************************************************ 

—“the ones you seek—they’re never coming back”—

—-“they’re dead in a pauper’s grave in the Jakku desert”—-

—“you’ve always know the truth—or have you just hidden it away?”—

She’d hidden it away. She’d always known the truth. The ones who’d left her, they were never coming back.

Because she’d killed them. She had blown that ship up before it had even left the atmosphere. Which was why there’d had been enough of them remaining to bury at all. They’d never gotten off the planet after abandoning her. Her rage, her fear—and the Force—had killed them. 

He’d come to her through their bond after it had all come back to her, Ben had. He was trying to reach her even now to offer her what comfort he could—him—the one she’d once named monster. But she was the true monster.

Rey could understand why Luke Skywalker had closed himself off from the Force as he had. She really could. Which is why—-relying on instinct alone to guide her—-she proceeded to do the same.

*

* 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Rey’s mind was so intimately linked to Ben’s during their last Force connection, the one she fought to initiate when she felt him suffering after his mother’s death, it allowed her to see into all of his mind. Included in what she found there was the memory of her own rather major past trauma, one so distressing that she had suppressed it completely. (Kylo/Ben was given this insight into her past when their hands touched on Ahch-To. Ben/Kylo has no part in the event she recalls.) She is so distraught over learning the truth of past events that she makes the decision to cut herself off from the Force, just as Luke did on Ahch-To. 
> 
> There. The coast is clear. It’s safe to read on!


	10. Chapter 10

+

“Let’s go, buddy. Finn figures the little Jedi could use a bit of a distraction.”

BB-8 chirped his opinion on the matter as he rolled along the gleaming corridor beside Poe Dameron. The newly minted General assured himself that it was the least he could do. She’d saved their skins on Crait, all of them. If it hadn’t been for her and the Wookie—his thoughts momentarily darkened at the thought of Chewbacca and whatever stunt he’d just pulled—there wouldn’t even be a Resistance right now. Let alone one that had expanded at such an astonishing rate.

As for the way she’d lifted that entire rockfall—Kriff, she was incredible. He wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that he was more than just a little awed. And that maybe he had a bit of a crush—hell, Rey’s smile could chase away any amount of darkness. He was sure of it. Rey of Sunshine. That’s who she was in his head.

But she was just a kid, way too young for him. And he was now General Poe Dameron of the Resistance, commmitted to restoring the New Galactic Republic. Still, there was no reason he couldn’t pop in and try to cheer her up a bit, was there?

He thumbed the deck of cards he’d tucked into his pocket. 

 

“Hey there, Jedi girl! You’re looking pretty good for someone who just escaped the clutches of the most evil monster in the entire galaxy!” Poe gave her a dazzling smile as he greeted her, feeling a twinge of sympathy when her face crumpled by the end of that sentence. 

Good move, Dameron. Perfectly brilliant to remind her of what she’s been trying to forget for days. Not so smart to make light of it. He mentally chastised himself.

Rey composed herself quickly enough and then bent down to straighten BB-8’s antennae affectionately. The little droid beeped his thanks. He regarded the scavenger girl as his personal saviour, too.

 

After very little conversation and a few hands of cards—he’d endeavoured to teach both Finn and Rey how to play, purely for social reasons—Poe ventured a quiet comment. 

“He’s been inside my head, too, Rey. Not many people know that. I was captured and he interrogated me. Maker knows he may have done even worse to you. I don’t know. But if you ever need to talk about it—believe me, I’ve been there. It was the worst experience of my life. I don’t think anyone else could possibly imagine how it feels.”

She looked up at him then with a haunted expression. Tears began trickling from the corners of her eyes and she quickly lowered her head. 

Poe felt awkward. He didn’t know this girl very well, but she seemed so different than she had before—as if she were broken somehow. Which was understandable.

He felt anger swell inside him for whatever Kylo Ren had done to her. He found himself hoping that Wexley was right, that Chewbacca had no doubt taken matters into his own hands and dragged the man responsible for Han Solo’s death into some dark corner of the galaxy so he could deal with him as he saw fit. He mentally shuddered when he considered what Chewie’s idea of justice might look like. 

Rumour had it that the Wookie had torn the arms off of a fellow named Plutt on Takodana. This Plutt had apparently been unkind to Rey back on Jakku. Wexley had advised Poe to be grateful the Wookie had essentially done their dirty work for them.

Rey continued to cry, probably wishing him miles away. Well, he wasn’t. So he reached across the table to take her hand, wisely saying nothing at all.

When sobs started wracking her body he couldn’t stand it any more. The man who had the nerve to take on a First Order dreadnaught all by his lonesome discovered he was no match at all for a woman’s tears. Especially not this one’s. He couldn’t bear seeing this brave, beautiful girl who’d saved the entire Resistance reduced to the state she was in.

Poe found himself instinctively moving closer to her. Before he even realized what he was doing he’d taken her in his arms and Rey was clinging to him like a drowning person, sobbing all the while. He held her close and just let her cry. 

In that moment Poe Dameron fell in love with her just a tiny bit.

 

 

In her head. Yes, he had been. Just as Rey had been in his. And never had she experienced such profound joy, such wonder. It had been sublime.

Until she had seen it. The truth about herself.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t dare. Never again could she risk opening herself to the Force, which meant she would never be with him again. It felt like she was dying inside. 

 

She had sworn to Ben that he wasn’t alone. 

But that had been before she’d known the truth. She was monstrous and the Force had become terrifying.

She felt herself drawn into a comforting embrace. Only it wasn’t his. 

She didn’t see how it ever could be again.

 

 

+


	11. Varykino

He was a weapon. That much he knew.

What remained for him now?

Chewie had made it abundantly clear that he’d acted out of love for the boy Ben Solo had once been, not for what he’d become.

What he had become? Or what he would become?

Was there something else he might yet?

 

 

His other uncle—who’d given them sanctuary once they’d left Ahch-To and the porgs after retrieving his lightsaber—his feelings were equally conflicted.

Oh, Ben could sense Lando Calrissian’s feelings for him even without the benefit of the Force. The suave ex-smuggler couldn’t conceal it, not even after all that his nephew had gone on to destroy.

Both uncles truly loved the boy Ben Solo had once been.

Neither one knew him now, he realized. How could they, when he didn’t even know himself?

 

But Rey—-

 

 

“You were right.”

Ben snapped out of his reverie as the sound of an unfamiliar voice broke the night’s stillness. An luminous blue figure had joined him on the moonlit terrace here at Varykino, the deserted ancestral summer home of the woman who’d given birth to his mother and his uncle. It was the eve of Leia’s funeral on Naboo, and Chewie and Lando intended to pay their respects. He had accompanied them, agreeing to keep an understandably low profile.

“When you told her it was time for the Jedi and the Sith to end, you were right.”

Ben, eyes wide with shock, stood his ground cautiously as the faintly glowing form advanced toward him. Who was this, and how was it they had been privy to that conversation aboard the dying Supremacy?

“This is where I married her.” The apparition had joined him at the balustrade and was casually resting his elbows on it while appearing to admire the beauty of the Naboo moon reflected in the still water of the lake. Ben Solo had the strangest feeling that he ought to know this spectre.

“I’m referring to your grandmother.”

Ben’s stomach dropped as it dawned on him.

“Yes, I am Anakin Skywalker. And you, Ben Organa Solo, are my one and only grandchild.” The Force ghost continued before a flabbergasted Ben could do as much as formulate a coherent response.

“Snoke’s influence didn’t allow for me to reach you. And no, Darth Vader never once spoke to you. That was another of Snoke’s deceptions.

Darth Vader—he was merely the horror I became when I lost my way, when fear—and anger—overcame me.”

Anakin’s tall figure raised itself to its full height and turned to face him. His grandfather very nearly matched his own stature. “Kylo Ren was born the very same way, was he not?” Ben found he couldn’t look away; his grandfather’s gaze seemed to lay his soul bare.

“I tore the galaxy apart for love of Padme. What will you do with it for love of Rey, I wonder?”

Ben felt as if all of the air had been sucked right out of his lungs. Anakin continued:

“I sometimes wonder what might have been, had the Jedi never found me, had I never been taken from Tatooine. Was it some strange accident that I was born a slave? 

I think not. Not any more than your Rey essentially became one, and that she suffered so long on Jakku.

As for you—you were also enslaved from an early age, although in an entirely different fashion.”

 

A thousand thoughts began swirling in Ben Solo’s head.

 

“You and I, we are so very alike. Passionate. Emotional. As was your mother.”

Anakin Skywalker smiled at the surprise written all over his grandson’s face. “Oh, to the galaxy your mother was the consummate politician; always radiating calm, composed strength. So like my Padme. So like your uncle Luke.” Anakin smiled to himself at the myriad of emotions playing over Ben’s face as he processed those words. “My son Luke—-so hopeful, so full of light. So convinced there was still good in me, despite everyone else’s certainty as to the contrary. Does that remind you of anyone?” 

Anakin nearly chuckled aloud at the expression that particular comment elicited. There was so much this boy could not yet see.

”But you, more than anyone, knew my daughter’s tempestuous nature, and how passionately she and your father would argue.” He made a placating gesture. “I know, I know, it was often over you, and what to do with you. That didn’t help matters, did it?

Your mother’s fire would have burned a lesser man to cinders.”

Ben was dumbfounded.

“What gave your mother the strength to strangle Jabba the Hutt with the very chain that bound her to him, do you think? Yet another chain in this story—that one quite literal—and how was it that she found the strength to resist the horror of Darth Vader’s mind probe?

Your mother was no Jedi, yet she instinctively channeled her emotions and drew on the Force many, many times. Contrary to what the Jedi taught, that is not inherently wrong. The Jedi were wrong. Just as the Sith were wrong to try and bend the Force to their will.

Tell me, did you enjoy making your kyber bleed red?” The ghost of a smile crossed the first Skywalker’s face. “ I thought not. You were always such a sensitive child; you have always felt so deeply. Yet for most of your life, you have been taught to separate yourself from those emotions. That has been disastrous, to say the least.” He clasped his hands behind his back before continuing.

“To live is to feel, and the Force is alive. Let your emotions help you find your way—do not suppress them as you have. Light? Darkness? Both exist; there needs to be a balance. The galaxy is in pain and you were born to feel it—cruel as that might seem. Child, you have not just felt your own pain; you have felt the agony of the entire galaxy, a terrible burden. Learn from the mistakes of those who’ve gone before you. Don’t fear the darkness or the light. Listen to your feelings, and allow the Force to guide you. 

Remember, you are not alone.”

As if he could forget. 


	12. Chapter 12

+

 

He had a bad feeling about this.

 

Lando Calrissian kept his thoughts to himself as he and his retinue were escorted to their places near the podium in front of the Royal Palace in Naboo’s capital of Theed.

The kid was right; gathering Resistance leaders and the most prominent supporters of the New Republic for Leia Organa’s extremely public funeral provided the First Order with a target too tempting to resist. Lando doubted Supreme Leader Hux would.

Did that mean the Resistance had some tricks up its sleeve, that a trap had been set? Thumbing its nose at the First Order hardly seemed wise, not when outright war between the two factions had erupted on a massive scale less than a week ago. 

Lando sighed in resignation. Once again, the galaxy bled—this time so violently that hundreds of star systems had already suffered the consequences. He was an old man now. Could he sit this one out? Focus solely on keeping his own people safe?

 

He somehow doubted it. 

 

Lando and his entourage took their places near the dais; judging from more than a few reactions Chewbacca’s presence beside him had come as a surprise to the Resistance leadership. 

As if anyone else here would more sincerely pay their respects to Leia Organa than the silent Wookie.

If only they realized who else had tagged along...but his nephew had no intention of making his presence known. Ben Solo hadn’t been heard of by the galaxy at large for over a decade and had expressed no desire to alter that state of affairs. That key members of the Resistance would now be able to identify him as Kylo Ren meant that option wasn’t much of an option anyway. He’d be a wanted man by the Resistance just as he would be by the First Order when they discovered he still lived. No, the boy meant to stay out of sight—just as well, since that would also preserve Chewie’s credibility with the new Resistance leadership. Not that the Wookie seemed to think much of it at the moment.

 

Lando’s suitably dark cape swirled around him as he greeted various dignitaries with his customary aplomb.

And then he saw her.

Lando noted how the handsome fellow he’d just been introduced to as the new General Dameron hovered over her with such a proprietary air.

That would never do. Not at all.

With his most charming smile in place, Lando Calrissian smoothly extracted himself from Dameron’s enthusiastic handshake and captured Rey’s hand instead.

“Hello. What have we here?” He brushed her knuckles with a kiss as he gallantly bent over it in greeting. “I’m Lando Calrissian. And who might you be?”

A spark lit her eyes as she responded. “Lando Calrissian! The smuggler?”

Lando grinned at her conspiratorially, winking flirtatiously. Smoothly drawing her away from Dameron and the hand the General had obviously intended to place at Rey’s waist, Lando leaned over and pressed a kiss to Rey’s forehead before whispering into the ear farthest from Dameron:

“And that, my dear Rey, is from my nephew. My favourite nephew. He’s here.” 

Judging from way her face transformed at those words, this kid had it every bit as bad as his nephew. He wondered if she’d even realized she hadn’t told him her name at all. He left Rey to be scooped up into Chewbacca’s affectionate embrace.

 

“I take it you dealt with Kylo Ren.” Chewbacca merely blinked at Dameron’s inquiry.

“I can assure you, Generals, that Kylo Ren will never trouble anyone again.” Dameron and Wexley both nodded grimly at Lando Calrissian’s interjection.

\+  

Rey looked shockingly drawn, utterly unlike the spitfire who’d stared Snoke down in his very own throne room. It was all the more distressing to Ben that he knew he couldn’t safely approach her this day.

He had to reach her. Though she’d cut herself off from the Force, their bond still lived. The Force had made her a part of him; that she was, even apart as they were. He could feel their connection whenever her defences were down—which meant only when she slept—and he knew he had to help her. The question was how to manage it.

 

They were treating her like some sort of doll. He knew his fierce, willful Rey was no placid creature to be paraded about for like this for the benefit of HoloNet viewers. The Resistance’s pet Jedi, it seemed. Not that she was a Jedi at all. 

She still looked beautiful. The dark gown she wore had a cut even his mother would have approved of, and her hair was elegantly styled. She looked rather regal. But Ben Solo would have preferred her in her old scavenger’s rags as long as it meant the light in her eyes burned brightly again.

 

Heartfelt tributes such as those by his Uncle Lando and even by Poe Dameron—he grudgingly admitted that Dameron had obviously adored his mother and had acted as a better son to her than Ben himself ever had—those had given way to the more opportunistic. Disgusted, Ben found himself tuning out the speakers who were clearly there to take full political advantage of a golden opportunity to address the masses gathered in the palace square and the billions no doubt watching via HoloNet. It rankled. It did not speak well of those overseeing the proceedings—at least, not in his opinion.

But he was relegated to the role of silent observer. He had no right to be anything else, not after what he’d done to his mother. Or to her husband. Or to her brother.

He could only imagine how revolted those standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the crowd that moment would be if they knew that truth. Ben fingered the elegant pewter embroidery on the cuffs of the long coat Lando had seen fit to outfit him in. He was all in black, which for once blended in rather well. Unsurprisingly, Uncle Lando had arranged for him to dress as finely as a prince. He hadn’t balked at the prospect. His mother would have approved; it was the least he could do.

Facing Chewie, explaining himself to a furious and equally devastated Uncle Lando—he didn’t deserve anything other than this misery, he reflected.

He’d begun seeking answers from them. From his surviving uncles. From Threepio. Even Artoo had eventually relented once he’d decided Ben was sincere. He had begun to ask questions an angry, frightened child would not have understood but that an older mind no longer tainted by Snoke’s influence might begin to.

His mother’s last months as a Senator interested him; he had been at Luke’s temple and completely unaware of the circumstances surrounding her betrayal. Yes, the droids and his uncles had been most helpful.

He was still reeling from his encounter with his grandfather.

+

What was he seeing?

She wouldn’t dare.

Carise Sindian of Arkanis had just stepped onto the podium.

+

Lando’s attention was caught and held by the sight of his striking, raven-haired nephew advancing toward the dais. He towered above those around him and with the bearing of a king made his way through the crowd, which seemed to part for him of its own volition.

Lando bit back a curse as he and Chewie exchanged subtle glances. What the hell was the kid thinking? So much for keeping a low profile.

Their long-lost nephew ascended the podium stairs and stalked across the stage like an incensed panther.

There were startled gasps from security and spectators alike as with a flick of his wrist Ben Solo immobilized everyone who as much as twitched in his direction. Blasters he’d Force-ripped from their owners hovered harmlessly overhead.

“None of this,” he dismissively gestured toward the gathered weapons. He turned his attention to the figure standing at the centre of the podium, the woman who’d been preparing to address the crowd.

”You. Leave. Now.” His voice was barely more than a hissed whisper, but the excellent sound system amplified his every word.

Stunned silence.

There was a decidedly pregnant pause before the woman in question recovered enough of her composure to haughtily demand his removal from the stage. No one budged. Those Ben hadn’t already frozen in place showed no inclination to move so much as a muscle.

Threepio, stationed along the back of the podium as befitted Leia Organa’s personal droid, decided that protocol demanded an appropriate introduction. It was abundantly clear no one was aware this was the Princess’s son. As for remaining incognito—apparently he’d had a change of heart. Very well, then. He was delighted to be of service. Threepio shuffled between the two figures on the dais in order to announce Ben by his proper title:

”His Highness Prince Ben Organa Solo, of the Royal House of Alderaan.” 

+

+


	13. Passion and Purpose

+

 

 

Ben froze in place as the golden droid’s introduction echoed across the square.

 

Prince Organa Solo...he’d never heard those words before.

 

Technically, Threepio was correct—even though everyone knew the Elder Houses had little to no importance in the galaxy anymore; his mother had made that clear. 

Still, this was no joke.

Him, on this dais? With the eyes of the galaxy quite literally upon him?

 

He hadn’t thought. Not at all. He’d simply acted; it was as if the Force itself had nudged him when Carise Sindian had taken the stage. He’d completely abandoned his original plan to blend in with the other mourners—

For the life of him he had no idea what to do next.

 

He caught sight of Rey’s uncharacteristically pale face in the crowd just then. Rey, once a humble desert scavenger, dressed like a queen. Something within him crystallized. 

The time for secrets had ended.

 

“You!” He turned once more to Carise Sindian, whose face had contorted into an expression of undisguised horror. 

“Will you stand here, on this day of all days, and claim to honour my mother’s memory? You, who orchestrated the total destruction of her political career when she was poised to stand for First Senator?” He heard startled gasps echo across the square; none but the members of the Elder Houses had known how Lady Carise Sindian had broken the Royal Seal so long ago, and how she had used her position to obliterate Leia’s credibility. At Leia’s urging the Elder Houses had unanimously moved to strip Carise Sindian of both of her titles for her troubles, one of the few powers remaining to them. Although that symbolism had devastated the scheming woman, the rest of the galaxy had never known the reason for her expulsion.

 

“Do they have the slightest idea how well and truly you manipulated the good man who was Ransolm Casterfo and then proceeded to frame him, contriving to see him sentenced to death for crimes he most certainly didn’t commit?”

That accusation drew more gasps from the gathered throngs; many of them remembered the infamous Napkin Bombing and the assassination Ben Solo referred to well enough.

 

“I thought not.”

His tone then changed.

“Do they know the rest of it, I wonder?” Carise Sindian’s beautiful face blanched. “Ah, they don’t. For how could they? Why, then, would they even allow you here to begin with?”

Carise Sindian fled the podium to cries of astonishment and confusion, vanishing into the crowd and heading who knew where.

 

In a tone of voice he’d never used before, Ben enlightened the crowds:

“I can assure you that Carise Sindian, so intent upon courting the favour of a restored New Republic, was in fact instrumental in the rise of the First Order itself!”

The clamour hadn’t died down before he continued:

 

“Ask yourselves where Leia Organa might have led you had she been elected First Senator—where she was leading you even as she died. She, who devoted her life to fighting for freedom in the galaxy! She despaired of the deep divide between the Centrists and the Populists in the New Republic Senate; she despised how atrophied and ineffectual the New Republic so quickly became!

She sought freedom for all—including freedom for those who’d never, ever had it!

But she was denied her chance to truly lead the galaxy to something better when the truth of her birth became public! It no longer mattered what she’d devoted her entire life to—no; suddenly, nothing she’d ever done mattered—-because she was VADER’S daughter!” 

He slowly drew out that dreaded title, seeing and feeling through the Force how so many in the crowd visibly recoiled at the mere mention of the name. 

 

“Darth Vader,” Ben repeated, almost in a whisper. 

“So many secrets. You truly cannot imagine my own surprise, or the effect that knowledge had on me.” He caught a glimpse of his uncles, stone-faced and sombre just a few rows from the podium he stood on. 

“Here’s another, a secret your Princess, Senator and General knew better than to share with the New Republic Senate.” 

 

 

All or nothing—-just like his father, thought Lando Caldissian to himself. Not to mention flying by the seat of his pants in what could only be called true Solo fashion.

The proverbial pin might as well have dropped and the audience would have heard it, so hushed was the crowd.

 

“Darth Vader, in the last hour of his existence, remembered who he truly was!” Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, hero of the Clone Wars, and most importantly, the man who’d loved Padme Naberrie above all else. He couldn’t let his son die, a child born of that love. “He recognized the lies he’d so long been telling himself.” Ben found Rey’s face in the crowd, willing her to understand what he meant by his next words despite how completely she’d severed herself from the Force.

“Someone believed in him again, and he found the strength to change everything. It was Anakin Skywalker who killed the Emperor himself.”

 

Astonished cries of confusion, of disbelief. Hadn’t Luke Skywalker done that? Just as their Last Jedi had supposedly just killed Snoke?

 

“This in no way diminishes Luke Skywalker’s lagacy—far from it. For only he had the strength of conviction to face Vader and the Emperor alone, and the faith to save his father from the monster he’d become!

And that is not all— no, for as all of you know, in the last hour of his life, Luke Skywalker once more found the courage to do the impossible! He stared down Kylo Ren and the First Order on Crait, allowing the Resistance to survive, for hope to survive. In doing so, he forced Ren to look within himself once more...” Ben’s voice cracked for a moment before trailing away.

 

Hux had declared Kylo Ren a traitor to the First Order and in an official statement had detailed Ren’s supposed assassination on Crait. Hux had gone on to state that Kylo Ren had assassinated Supreme Leader Snoke, making no mention of Rey of Jakku in the belief that doing so would weaken confidence in the Order. 

Ben changed tack.

 

“What would my mother make of this, of the shameless political posturing that has taken place today here on this very stage? It does nothing to improve the lot of those who suffer, of those who’ve always suffered. For there are far too many in the galaxy no one has ever truly fought to save.

The First Order—you know well what it would do to your precious freedoms.

And the Resistance—committed to restoring the New Republic?

The Resistance would restore the disaster that the New Republic became—and worse! It seeks to ally itself with the Hutts!”

 

Anger and shock rumbled through the crowd. The Resistance leadership were hardly going to be pleased with him.

 

“What would Leia Organa make of that, I wonder? She, who strangled Jabba the Hutt with the very chain he’d used to enslave her!”

More gasps of disbelief; that particular tidbit hadn’t exactly been common knowledge.

 

“Rotta! Do you, as leader of the Hutts, pledge to abolish the galaxy’s greatest shame? One your dynasty has perpetuated for so long? One the Old Republic, the Empire, the New Republic and the First Order have at their best done little to alleviate and have at their worst actively encouraged? So petty has been this endless struggle for supremacy—it has to end! The war must end! As must our galaxy’s worst crime.”

Silence.

 

“Slavery! Monstrous in scale, and always deemed too far-reaching for anyone to end. But end, it must. Billions have suffered, and will only continue to suffer if it is not eradicated in its entirety.

I say, no more! Let the First Order and the Resistance burn each other to ashes, for all the difference either will make on that score!”

 

Gasps. Again.

 

“My mother dreamt of freedom. As did my father.” His voice cracked again. “Freedom for all. And that is what I swear today to fight for. 

Not for the Resistance...certainly not for the First Order.

For those who need hope.” He took a deep breath.

“The galaxy once knew me as Kylo Ren—-horror that I was behind that mask.”

 

The crowd’s confusion, shock and outright revulsion coursed around him in the Force, even as a tide of hope crashed against it at the very same time.

 

“Take off the mask, and THIS is who you get! I am a Skywalker, Darth Vader’s grandson. Darth Vader, whose true name was Anakin Skywalker before he lost his way. 

I have found mine! Evil has flourished for too long; balance must be restored. 

Will you help me?” His gaze sought the one he treasured above all others as he uttered those four words, even as he closed his eyes before he could see the inevitable rejection he feared he’d find there.

 

Chewbacca’s exultant howl was drowned out by cries of fear.

 

For three First Order Star Destroyers had just come out of hyperspace directly overhead.

 

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unfamiliar with Claudia Gray’s (canon) novel Bloodline, I recommend going to Wookiepedia and reading up on Carise Sindian and Ransolm Casterfo.


	14. Chapter 14

+

 

Chaos.

 

Rey was being dragged through the panicking hordes, surrounded by General Dameron’s security detail as they ushered key Resistance members to safety. Her eyes were huge in her pale face as she looked over her shoulder at him before disappearing into the crowd.

 

He was vaguely aware of Chewie roaring for he and Threepio to get off the stage, Lando having already leaped with remarkable agility toward the speeder he’d unsurprisingly arranged to have standing by.

 

Artoo had vanished, hopefully in the direction he was meant to go. Everyone was racing every which way, leaving Ben and his startling presence all but forgotten.

 

Bewilderingly enough the Resistance hadn’t anticipated an attack of this magnitude, although fighters already raced from their lone capital ship to meet the First Order’s assault.

 

Shrieks of horror, stampeding hordes—even Naboo’s highly efficient security forces were unable to cope with the frightened masses.

Everyone was dashing for cover, save the lone figure on the carpeted dais standing dazedly next to his mother’s flower-bedecked casket.

 

It came as no surprise when all three First Order capital ships opened fire on Leia Organa’s funeral and the city of Theed.

No, what stunned everyone who actually witnessed it was the sight of the man—the same one who’d just told them he was once Kylo Ren—calmly reaching out and redirecting the entire turbolaser barrage so that all three Star Destroyers exploded high overhead in the clear blue Naboo sky.

 

+

 

Ben Solo’s face was solemn as he muttered an apology to his uncles once they were safely aboard their shuttle and racing away from the planet. Lando’s official retinue was aboard his other ship, the one already making its way to Bespin.

Ben couldn’t imagine his actions had done anything other than shred the trust the Resistance had always had in Lando and Chewbacca based on their past heroics. The two of them had known he was very much alive and had just led the Resistance to believe otherwise.

“Are you kidding me?” Lando grinned from ear to ear as he shook his head, manning the intentionally nondescript shuttle’s controls with practiced ease.

“That was some party trick! But not exactly a good way to avoid drawing attention to yourself.”

Lando closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, remembering how easily Han had always seen straight to the heart of most problems. Leia had fondly considered it one of her husband’s greatest gifts. Lando wished Han could have been there today—to see his son do the same.

Of course, the reason he wasn’t was sitting right behind Lando in the cockpit. It seemed a cruel irony to Lando that the one problem Han and Leia hadn’t had the slightest idea how to fix had been how to reach their own son after the mistakes they’d made with him.

Ben’s heart leaped when Chewie reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately. The Wookie hadn’t done that since...well, before. Before Kylo Ren. Before he’d even been sent to train with Luke.

 

Ben could scarcely believe it; he had effectively rendered Chewbacca persona non grata in the eyes of Poe Dameron’s Resistance, yet the Wookie seemed...pleased? Proud, even.

Ben couldn’t recall the last time anyone had made him feel proud of anything.

“Where to, your Highness?” Lando teased him, his eyes twinkling with newfound hope even as Ben rolled his own in mock exasperation.

“I have no idea.”

Chewbacca chortled before rumbling a suggestion.

 

+

 

 

Rose cringed when she heard the strangled cries coming from the chamber across from her own.

No one but Rey was inside; no one could tolerate the nightly terrors suffered by the one so many called the Light of the Resistance. That Rey had become a shadow of herself was a closely guarded secret.

Rose sighed, picking up the prepared syringe she’d been charged with administering whenever this situation arose—which was nightly. Regularly sedating the Last Jedi like this had to be far from healthy.

Bleary-eyed, she keyed open the door to Rey’s sleeping compartment aboard the ship. Surprisingly enough, Rey’s screams hadn’t escalated into anything worse. They’d actually subsided completely by the time Rose entered the tiny cabin. Would Finn get his wish? Could the need for this finally be ending?

Rose flipped the switch to activate the cabin’s dimmest light setting and stilled.

There in the shadows was the long, pale face that had been seared into the consciousness of everyone who’d witnessed the events of Leia’s funeral just hours earlier. Kylo Ren—Ben Solo—call him what she would—had squeezed his large frame into Rey’s narrow bunk and was holding her awkwardly against him while she slept.

Rey was actually sleeping soundly and peacefully for the first time since Leia’s passing.

Leia’s son’s eyes darted from Rose to the syringe in her hands. He shook his head ever so slightly.

Rose immediately recapped the syringe and keyed the cabin door shut, whisper-blurting:  
“Are you here to take her with you?”

He shook his dark head slowly.

“Why not? This is the first time she hasn’t needed it since that night. She hardly says a word, she barely eats, she cries half the time, and whenever she falls asleep she starts screaming, like she’s terrified.”

Dark eyes appraised her silently.

“Maybe you can help her.” (Because it looks to me like you already have...)

Ben Solo blinked at Rose, still saying nothing.

“What’s happening? Finn says she was never like this before. And don’t tell me it’s because of you. Everyone else seems to think so! But I saw you together. I know it’s not what they think. And that Wookie didn’t kill you after all. So something’s going on.”

The dark, silent figure still said nothing.

His voice startled Rose when he finally spoke. “Could you please take her hair down?”

Hardly what she’d expected him to say. But yes, the request made sense. Now that Rey was finally asleep she’d be far more likely to stay that way without her hair all twisted and pinned like it was.

But that meant actually approaching him...

The imposing figure sighed, almost as if it he sensed her trepidation. He began to shift himself in order to free one of his own hands instead when Rose stepped forward.

She pointedly put the syringe down and methodically began undoing Rey’s incredibly elaborate hairstyle. She tried not to flinch when she felt the large man’s breath against the back of her hand. He had Rey tucked securely right under his chin.

“I don’t bite.”

Rose’s hand stilled and she met his eyes. “You shot three Star Destroyers out of the sky.” She felt him exhale in what felt like mild exasperation.

“I redirected a turbolaser barrage the First Order chose to direct at an unarmed populace.”

 

“Yeah. So that it blew up three Star Destroyers. You—“ Rose had a mouthful of hairpins by this point, and was about to remove the last of the ones still remaining in Rey’s hair—“are a very scary man.” She thought she glimpsed a fleeting sadness in his eyes before his expression hardened.

“Yes I am. I killed my own father, I nearly killed my mother and I am the reason Luke Skywalker is dead. Oh, and I very nearly killed FN-2187. Your Finn. Am I not correct? I can assure you that I have not forgotten.”

Rose straightened, immensely relieved her task was complete. She thought it best to change the topic. “What’s going on with Rey?” She hardly expected him to respond, yet he did.

“She’s afraid. Afraid of herself. I know how that feels! She has chosen to cut herself off from the Force, but she does not yet realize the harm that does her. ”

Rose watched this frightening man’s long fingers as he began stroking Rey’s hair, almost reverently.

“You should take her with you.”

Again Kylo—Ben—shook his head ever so slightly.

 

“That must be her own choice.”

Rose quietly retrieved the syringe she’d set down and left the compartment without a word.

Ben sighed in relief, relaxing his shoulders and finally giving in to the temptation to bury his nose in Rey’s hair. He felt like he’d die without her, she who’d lit his way out of the darkness. He still needed her. Now she needed him, too. Ben pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head when he felt her stir. 

In that moment the bond between them linked their minds once more, and he found himself witnessing the memory of her abandonment on Jakku. She cried out in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open as she drifted between sleep and consciousness.

“Rey,” he whispered to her in the darkness. “I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. For you, I’ll always come back.” Rey looked up at him groggily before curling herself more closely against him. Ben’s breath caught when she sleepily slipped her hand into the opening of his tunic so that it rested over his heart.

Rose returned to the cabin with an extra blanket and without the syringe, keying the door shut behind her and making a show of locking it from the inside. She then marched over to the bunk opposite Rey’s and pulled the blanket around her securely.

Before hitting the switch to shut off the dim night-cycle lighting, she glanced over at the pair on the opposite bunk. Leia Organa’s son had his eyes closed and had stretched out full length on the bunk beside Rey, who’d turned toward him in her sleep.

Rose rolled over to face the wall.

When she woke up again, he was gone.

 

+

 

“Ben Solo!” Maz’s shouted greeting brought the crowded taproom to a standstill. “And this time you’ve brought my boyfriend!” Maz greeted Lando Calrissian with the same level of enthusiasm she’d reserved for Chewie before ushering the trio, along with Threepio, to the empty table nearest the bar.

“Not terribly considerate of you to force me to redecorate after your last visit.” Maz waggled a finger at Ben before adjusting her goggles to peer into his eyes. 

She blinked at what she discovered. Ah, there it was. At last.

Maz retreated behind the bar before returning to their table with four glasses and a dusty bottle.

Lando gave a low whistle of appreciation when he saw the label. It was Corellian Cognac, among the rarest of spirits. It was nearly unheard of in the galaxy.

“It can take a very long time for something to come into its own, Ben Solo,” said Maz, catching Chewbacca’s eye as she poured.

Maz raised her glass in a wordless toast before fixing her gaze on Ben. “Mind if I join you?”

 

Something told him she wasn’t just referring to a round of drinks.

 

 

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren froze a blaster bolt in TFA, the TLJ novelization mentions that he would have redirected the shots fired on the Raddus’ bridge had he sensed them in time, so why not have him shoot down those Star Destroyers?
> 
> “Size matters not,” remember? Hey, who am I to argue with Yoda! ;)


	15. Chapter 15

+

 

 

 

Supreme Leader Hux paced the length of the enormous viewport that dominated the chamber he’d so recently designated as his throne room. The heels of his immaculately polished boots clicked against the floor’s equally reflective surface. 

Hux cracked his knuckles in frustration now that he was safely removed from the scrutiny of those beneath him.

 

Ren was alive.

Not only that, he’d ignited a firestorm. 

Instead of crushing a predictable enough foe under its heel, the First Order now faced much more than the Resistance—a Resistance now openly supported by hundreds of worlds. Unfathomable as it seemed, there were reports of slaves actually revolting on several planets loyal to the First Order. 

 

Laughably enough, Ren had taken to the HoloNet mere hours after the funeral debacle to declare him, Supreme Leader Hux of the First Order, a ‘war criminal’ for the Starkiller’s elimination of the Hosnian system. What good did the fool imagine that would do him? Hux recalled Ren’s objections to the full demonstration of the Starkiller’s power with a dismissive shake of his perfectly coiffed head.

More serious than the loss of three capital ships over Theed was Ren’s exposure of Carise Sindian. A disconcerting number of wealthy First Order supporters were suddenly becoming too skittish for his liking.

He’d be a fool to ignore that his generals were far from impressed. Hux had been made to appear dangerously fallible in their eyes, and their knives—well cloaked, of course—were no doubt being sharpened for him. 

It was imperative he act decisively. 

How best to?

Hux spun on his heel as the answer presented itself. By using fear, of course. The same fear of powerful Force users that billions of beings across the galaxy already harboured, and always had. 

Ren had destroyed three Star Destroyers in plain sight of the entire galaxy. In addition, Hux had yet another piece or two he could put into play...yes.

Ren had made this far too simple. 

 

 

+

 

“I can’t believe it.”

 

“Why not? Devoting some of our resources to fanning the flames of a potential Stormtrooper rebellion seems logical. Especially if the circumstances are as ripe for it as Solo claims. Finn wasn’t exactly denying that possibility either, was he?”

 

“Because this is Kylo Ren we’re talking about!” Poe Dameron raked his fingers through his hair in outright frustration with his fellow General, Snap Wexley. 

 

Luke Skywalker’s battered astromech, the one that had been silent for years during the Jedi Master’s exile, had made its way onto a Resistance shuttle in Theed. Not long afterward, it had sought out the Resistance leadership and had delivered an interesting message recorded before its arrival on Naboo—a message from none other than Kylo Ren. Or Ben Solo, as Wexley seemed intent on calling him.

 

Dameron couldn’t.

 

He could not wrap his head around the fact the man they’d seen do the impossible at Leia’s funeral was NOT Kylo Ren. He recalled how Ren had so casually frozen a blaster bolt that dark night on Jakku—how it had felt to be interrogated by the First Order—and then, the remembered torture of having his mind ripped into by the monster himself.

 

As for the unspeakable horrors he must have subjected Rey to? Surely his own paled in comparison. Rey was currently a wreck; there was no other word for it. No, he couldn’t call Kylo Ren Ben Solo and simply overlook the rest.

 

“How can we trust him? Finn says Kylo Ren killed Han Solo. And he essentially killed Leia! She died of radiation poisoning because of a shot he took!”

 

Wexley took a deep breath before replying.

 

“I know that, Poe. But did you see your little Jedi with that Wookie? She was clinging to him like a Mon Calamari barnacle at the funeral. This is Chewie we’re talking about—the same Chewie who told us Kylo Ren was gone.” Snap was doing his best to be patient.

 

“That’s not what he said—Calrissian did all the talking!”

 

“And Chewie did all the rescuing! You know what our intentions were at that point, and so did he. That Wookie grabbed Ben Solo out from under our noses, and not for the reason we first suspected. Now he and Lando show up with him on Naboo and vouch for him. Listen to yourself! Why the hell would Lando Calrissian and Chewbacca do that for anyone they didn’t trust implicitly? Because that’s essentially what they did. Chewbacca is so protective of Rey—why would he stand with Ben Solo if he thought Solo would harm so much as a hair on her head? Yes, Kylo Ren killed Han. And Chewie shot him with a bowcaster for it! But now he and Lando have apparently changed their minds about him, even though he killed Han, killed Leia, and probably killed Luke somehow or other. So what’s changed? Something major.”

 

“Nothing’s changed! None of this makes sense!”

 

“No, it doesn’t. But he’s a Skywalker. Do any of them?” Snap Wexley sighed. “I’m not sure he’s our enemy, Poe.”

 

“I’m not sure he’s our friend.”

 

+

 

“What do you mean, shut the door?” 

The familiarity of working with her hands on anything mechanical was essentially Rey’s only solace after the night of Leia’s death. She’d tinkered away on ships at first, but in a crowded hangar bay she’d soon find someone at her elbow more often than not. Her frame of mind had her avoiding the company of others, no matter how kind or well-meaning. 

She was most comfortable with solitude, so she’d asked to clean and repair droids instead. Finn, Rose and Poe apparently expected her to be occupying herself with more ‘Jedi-like’ activities, but that was no longer possible. Not that they knew it. But working with the droids suited her. She was well aware that she had a talent for it, and besides—droids weren’t much for conversation.

Most droids, that was. Present company excepted. R2-D2 whistled away at her impatiently.

“I will, I will. No need to be rude! Although why you feel a sudden need for privacy in order to have something as straightforward as a lubrication bath is truly——” 

 

“Rey.” Even distorted by R2’s recording, that voice stopped her in her tracks. Shocked, Rey whirled to face the spunky little astromech as the unexpected message continued. “If Artoo has resorted to showing you this, then you’re still keeping yourself closed off from the Force. This is the only way I can reach you now.” Ben looked so somber, so unsure of himself. The funeral had been yesterday. He must have recorded this beforehand, just as he’d recorded the other message Finn had told her of. They’d asked her if she’d wanted to see it, but she hadn’t. It would have been entirely too painful.

”I know you are afraid, Rey, and I know how it feels to be frightened—frightened of yourself.” The holo Ben blinked, pausing. “ You were but a child. You were overwhelmed. Don’t torture yourself for that. You couldn’t have had control over what happened. You were too young.

Do you remember that feeling you had in the throne room? When felt like you couldn’t continue? You let it in, didn’t you? The Force, all of it. You let it guide you, guide your every action. It was profound. I know, because I felt it the moment you did. I didn’t recognize its significance until much later—on the island.” The flickering blue hologram of Ben looked down for a moment before continuing.

You showed me the way, Rey. You saved me—you know it to be true. Even though I didn’t deserve it! You believed in me like no one in my life had ever done before, and it changed everything for me. I’ve done monstrous things. Nothing can alter that.

But you—you are no monster. Quite the opposite. I don’t know if you realize how strongly you blaze with light. There is darkness within you, yes. As there must be. I’m not certain there is a dark side, or a light; the Force is both. That same Force is a part of you; you’re not meant to fear it. You do yourself untold harm if you do, and if you shut yourself off from it. 

Please, Rey...let me help you. I won’t presume to tell you that you need a teacher. But I’m asking you to let go—let go of your fears, and let the Force guide you. Let the past die, but don’t try and burn it away or let it define you. There’s an urgency and turmoil in the Force I’ve never felt before. Please, Rey...and...may the Force be with you. Because it’s not against you. 

Heed its message, for your own sake if not for mine.

Please...” The final word was a whisper.

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

 

+

Ben Solo collapsed onto his bunk aboard Maz’s ship. He was well and truly exhausted.

And thoroughly sickened.

 

Yes, he’d done as the Force had guided him in that moment; he’d redirected those First Order turbolasers so that they hadn’t harmed the masses gathered for his mother’s funeral.

 

But in doing so, he’d done just as the Rebels had done when they’d destroyed the Death Stars. Ordinary beings, doing ordinary jobs, had had their lives snuffed out in a heartbeat. Not the millions who’d died on the Death Stars, no. And not the billions who’d perished when the Starkiller’s awful might had been unleashed on the Hosnian system...although he’d protested its use to begin with. No, this had been thousands. Yet in a way, this was worse—because it had been by his own hand. Force-guided, but still very much his.

 

It truly sickened him. Everyone around him seemed awed, dazzled, approving. Why then, days after the fact, did he still feel like throwing up?

This had to end.

 

The war had to end.

 

 

But it had scarcely begun, and he was very much afraid he’d made everything so much worse.

 

 

+

 

 

The six cloaked figures sent Alcida Auka and two of the daughters scurrying for cover, scant as the possibilities were. They’d seen these grim figures disembark from their skyboat and then spread out to search for something. Or someone.

 

Before long they had made their way toward the Lanai settlement and the repository very near it, the one they used to store the many and varied items left by Outsiders over the millennia. Mere days ago they had added the tall one’s black clothing to it after he and the great furry one had arrived in that saucer-shaped skyboat. They’d dropped off the avians who’d left on that same skyboat last time and had then proceeded to fly away almost immediately after retrieving that fiery glowing light sword of his.

 

The Matron was afraid. These Outsiders seemed very different from any others who’d arrived. They were not drawn to the usual locations—and if instinct served her correctly, they also meant the Lanai harm.

 

 

The menacing figures marched up to the repository, one of them yanking the heavy door open, the rest of them brandishing weapons they clearly meant to use. The Matron suddenly feared she had been too late. 

 

Upon an instruction whispered in the winds, the tall one’s belt had just been hammered to pieces, the tiny piece of metal they’d discovered within it smashed. They’d burned what had remained. Until this morning, that belt had been stored inside this very stone building.

 

The six figures made ready to charge at the Lanai and barge into the repository for reasons only they understood. She clearly did not. Then a strangely luminous, bluish apparition appeared between the menacing figures and the Lanai huddled beside the repository’s thick stone walls.

 

It was him. The only one who’d ever learned their tongue, the one who’d stayed so much longer than any of the others. He was apparently in some new and unusual form, but they knew it to be him. 

 

Their Outsider lowered his hood, stepped toward the newcomers and made himself clear.

 

“Don’t even think about it.”

 

 

 

+


	16. Return to Canto Bight

+

The man in the elegant white tuxedo wore a red plom bloom on his lapel and enjoyed an excellent vantage point. His fingers danced with their customary flair across the keyboard of the klavier in the far corner of Canto Casino’s cabaret lounge. No one observing him would have had any indication he’d just spotted exactly who he’d been watching for.

The Jedi and the General entered Canto Casino right on schedule, an orange BB unit rolling along behind them. No one noticed a droid, he knew—no one but him, which was precisely the reason he’d earned to pay them close attention. Unless he was mistaken this was the same unit that had accompanied that foolish pair of Resistance fighters who’d barged into the Casino less than a standard month ago in order to seek him out. He’d been forced to feign ignorance of their existence given the circumstances, of course. The reasons for their desperation had later become clear. Still, they’d been foolhardy to approach him so recklessly.

Canto Bight had quickly been restored to its usual splendour after that memorable evening, and the Resistance that reckless pair had sought to aid had since blazed into a full-fledged Rebellion.

He’d made it his business to have the pulse of the galaxy at his fingertips. The two who’d just arrived had become major players on the game board.

The young Jedi—or rather, Force-sensitive—was undeniably lovely, her figure-hugging white gown emphasizing a lithe, strong figure. She drew the eye, as did her darkly handsome human male companion. Instantly recognizable as one of the leaders of the new Rebellion, General Poe Dameron seemed fully aware of the admiring glances he was receiving from more than one species. He flashed that dazzling smile of his as the striking couple threaded their way through the Canto Casino’s glittering throngs.

The reason for their visit was hardly a secret. The master codebreaker observed numerous hopefuls subtly vying to make their acquaintance. 

There was a war on, one that engulfed the entire galaxy, which was very much to the benefit of those for whom the desert oasis of Canto Bight was a glittering playground.

 

The Master Codebreaker smiled at Tuula. She’d artfully draped herself over the klavier on the pretense of admiring one of his many talents; he was known for entertaining the Canto Casino crowds whenever the mood struck him. Before long he would take his customary place at one of the high stakes tables—even if tonight’s stakes were undoubtedly the highest Canto Bight had ever seen. The stunning Twi’lek recognized that particular smile for the signal it was and began gracefully making her way across the floor in the direction the young couple was certain to go.

 

+

 

The sheer opulence of Canto Bight was astonishing. In a desert every bit as harsh and inhospitable as Jakku’s, an artificial sea and wonders such as what Poe had assured her were incredibly rare Alderaanian trees graced a jewel of a city. It was only the second city Rey had ever seen.

Finn and Rose knew it was imperative they stay with the ship, realizing it would be very unfortunate if Canto Bight’s security forces were to recognize them. They’d warned Rey what marvels to expect but seeing this place with her own eyes was another matter entirely.

There was no threat from the First Order here. Although its spies were everywhere, Cantonica and Canto Bight were strictly off-limits on account of the rarified clientele it attracted. The arms trade underpinning all of it was crucial to the First Order’s success, just as it was important to the Rebellion hoping to defeat the First Order. Despite that, Rey hoped Poe’s face-to-face meeting Rebellion’s newest starfighter supplier would be as brief as he expected it to be.

General Wexley had been quite right to advise that she and Poe dress as they had, and she saw now why Rose and Finn had so readily agreed with him. Even so, she found the ridiculously high heeled footwear she was currently tottering on to be absurdly impractical. It was hardly going to make the second part of her mission, a personal task she’d promised Finn and Rose she’d see to, any easier. Poe wouldn’t necessarily like what she had planned for after his meeting with the Rebellion’s newest ship supplier but her feet were sure to protest even more loudly than he would.

Much to her surprise Poe leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before striding off to the meeting room. “For luck, right?” He winked at her with a good-humoured twinkle in his eye before heading off, BB-8 rolling at his heels.

+

Rey sighed, wishing she could find it in herself to enjoy this outing as much as he apparently did. In the brief time she’d known Poe Dameron she’d gotten the distinct impression he was capable of laughing his way through total disaster.

Poe had reassured her that all she needed to do tonight was try and appear ‘Jedi-like’. Presumably that meant serene and fearless. She knew many called her the ‘Light of the Resistance’, she who’d come from nowhere, had supposedly trained with the legendary Luke Skywalker, and had nearly singlehandedly saved the remnants of what had become the Rebellion. Laughable, all of it. She was no Jedi, nor could she ever become one now. Thankfully none of the others suspected. As for fearless? Nothing could be further from the truth. No one alive—except for... _him _...knew she was making a monumental effort nearly every waking moment in order to keep herself shut off from the Force because of an overwhelming fear of what she might inadvertently do with it.__

____

____

Mercifully her nights had become peaceful again. She had no idea why. But it was a tremendous relief to fall asleep without dreading how the Force would pummel her unconscious mind with such horrors that when she awoke from them everything around her would be shaking. She’d sent random objects flying more than once, and to her dismay she’d even broken some. 

Rey was not remotely timid by nature but the thought of accidentally harming the first real friends she’d ever had terrified her now that the Force felt like something wild and frightening. When she’d learned how Chewie had suggested she be sedated the night everything had first fallen apart for her, continuing that treatment had seemed obvious to Rey. She couldn’t harm anyone if she was too drugged up to lash out, could she? At least she got what passed for rest in that sorry state.

Finn, Rose, Poe and Snap Wexley had protested, and they were the only ones who knew anything of her nightly terrors. Rose and Finn had agreed to keep secret the incidents involving flying objects, but not even they had any inkling of her deepest fear. Rey, haggard and desperate, had insisted everyone respect her wishes. She was immensely relieved that matters had suddenly changed for the better after the events on Naboo, not liking the idea of sedation either but being too afraid to do without it. Rey knew full well how much Rose had despised her role. That, at least, had improved.

 

Not that anything else had. Ever since Ben’s message Rey had been more torn than ever.

Gazing up at the stars, dim as they were over this brightly illuminated jewel of an artificial paradise, she felt reassuringly tiny and insignificant. It was almost possible to pretend everything had been as it once had—that she’d never learned of the Force, that she’d never been able to channel its incredible power, that she’d never done what she had in her fear and anger. Bitterly lonely as her existence had been on Jakku, surely it had been preferable to this...except, of course, that she would never have met... _him _. She would never have met the one person who’d understood her like no one else ever had.__

____

____

 

Not that she could ever return to what they’d shared so briefly. Not now.

 

She stubbornly blinked back the tears that threatened. 

 

Rey turned her back on the stars. The tiny pinpricks of light in the velvet of the night sky suddenly seemed too bittersweet a reminder of another interplay of light and darkness. 

 

 

She turned to face the crowded interior of the Casino. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the tall, commanding figure at the far end of the crowded room. Even without the Force connecting them, she knew him in a heartbeat. 

 

It was Ben.

He looked breathtakingly handsome in crisp black and white appropriate for an evening in Canto Bight. He’d grown facial hair, but she’d know Ben Solo anywhere.

 

 

He leaned down to greet a scantily clad Twi’lek, and Rey bit back a gasp when the absolutely ravishing female practically wrapped herself around him. She watched in stunned disbelief as Ben placed one large hand on the unknown Twi’lek’s naked back and drew her even closer against his tall form so that whatever she whispered into his ear made his face light up.

 

Unable to stomach another second of a display that shocked her to her core, Rey whirled and faced the empty night sky instead. Her knuckles whitened on the balcony railing. In that moment the part of her she’d tried to ignore realized with crystal clarity that no matter how determinedly she’d closed herself off from the Force, all that truly mattered was—-.

 

—-suddenly right beside her at the railing overlooking the racetrack.

 

“Rey.” Rey looked up to find Ben’s dark eyes smiling into her own. She was bewildered to find him by her side so quickly.

 

Only later would she recall that she’d never seen anyone look at her the way Ben Solo just had.

Ben fought a powerful urge to sweep Rey up in his arms. Instead, he approached her as cautiously as one might a timid wild creature that threatened to bolt. He hated that their minds weren’t linked; then again, he’d only ever felt too much, too deeply—

 

”Rey”, he repeated, her name on his lips like a prayer. 

 

 

When she stepped into his arms it felt like home.

 

This was infinitely better than going to her through the Force to push her nightmares away. This time, she knew he was here. He never, ever wanted to let her go. “I did everything wrong the first time, I know. I wish I’d never tried to hurt you by saying you came from nothing, that you were nothing. You are everything, Rey. _Everything. _It’s like a part of me has been missing.”__

____

____

 

Hot tears were coursing down Rey’s cheeks just as they had the night they’d first reached for each other across the stars. Ben gently brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs, still scarcely believing she was with him again.

 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Ben..”

 

“I’ll help you. Rey. You know I will.”

 

He stepped back from her for a moment, one hand still cupping her face. “I have something for your friends. For the Rebellion.” He pressed a tiny datachip into her hand and closed her fingers around it, explaining that it contained security clearances and the locations of every single Stormtrooper training or reconditioning facility belonging to the First Order. That, and much, much more.

 

“You knew all of this?” Rey was surprised. Kylo Ren been no part of the First Order for months, so how—

 

“ I knew none of it. But some of my new acquaintances are rather...talented.” Ben’s eyes darted toward the figure in the white tuxedo still seated at the klavier. “The company I keep is rather preoccupied these days so the galaxy will no doubt be better served with this in the hands of the Rebellion.”

 

 

Everyone had heard of the massive wave of slave revolts sweeping the galaxy. 

 

“Besides, you and your Rebel friends have the ultimate weapon at your disposal, one it would not be wise to underestimate. FN-2187. You can tell him I said so.” Perhaps millions of those lost boys could somehow be saved.

 

Ben gently drew her against him and Rey buried her face in his shoulder without the slightest hesitation. She felt the instant Ben’s demeanour changed. 

 

His lips brushed her ear as he murmured into it, but there was no mistaking his tone. “As soon as Dameron finishes his transaction, you need to leave. Your contact will need to do the same. As soon as you are safely aboard your vessels, you must depart. Both ships have been given clearance for safe passage.”

 

Rey’s eyes widened with understanding. Then she whispered into his ear, momentarily grateful for the extra height her ridiculous footwear granted her. “There’s something I promised. I promised Finn and Rose, there are—“

 

“Three slave children in the stables, children who would be better off far away from here despite what tonight will bring. They once helped Rose and Finn, who now wish to return the favour. Yes, I know. I’ll see them safely to your vessel. I’ll see to it personally.”

 

However had he known?

 

“Leave the moment I bring them, much as I hate seeing you go.” Even as he said the words aloud, his heart cried out with the silent plea for her to say she’d stay.

Force or no Force, Rey couldn’t fight against the instinct any longer. Banishing the image of Ben and the seductive Twi’lek from her mind, she threaded her hands into that silky hair of his and pulled Ben Solo into the kiss he’d been dreaming of for so long.

 

The massive walls Rey had so stubbornly erected in her mind crashed to their foundations as the Force flooded back into her.

 

So powerfully did its energy sing as it welcomed her acceptance of it that Canto Casino trembled, glassware and cutlery tinkled and scores of Casino patrons rushed to the balcony railings for what they assumed was an unscheduled Fathier race.

 

Only it wasn’t. That brief taste of the power that rejoiced just as truly as Ben Solo did once again terrified the girl who’d once stared down Snoke himself.

 

”I can’t do this, I can’t.” Rey was clutching his arm, squeezing her eyes shut and willing away images of exploding ships.

 

She couldn’t do any of this.

 

She was shaking her head, no. 

Her life on Jakku had been harsh, yes. Yet she’d been an independent scavenger of the metal lands, beholden to no one. Forced into nothing; not compared to this. She’d never had a choice. The Force hadn’t allowed it. The Force had done all of this. And because their minds were linked, Ben Solo felt all of it. 

It wounded him beyond measure.

 

Rey frantically wrenched herself away from him. In a strangled voice, she choked out the words that nearly finished him: “ I didn’t choose this.”

What little colour he had drained from his face and his response was barely audible. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you. Now, GO!” His whispers had become a shout.

 

+

Ben stole through the shadows deep into the Fathier stables, the Force guiding him to one particular stall. As he opened the gates a small boy leaped up from the straw he’d been huddling in near the feet of the majestic creature beside him. The boy’s hand hovered over the large red knob of what was clearly an alarm button. The child hesitated.

 

“Resistance?” he whispered to Ben, momentarily flashing the secret symbol with the ring he was wearing. Wherever had he gotten such a thing, Ben wondered.

“Not quite” Ben answered. The child was well aware of what was afoot tonight in Canto Bight and what his part in it was to be. He seemed to take Ben’s response as enough of a call to action, so before Ben could say another word he triggered the alarm and opened the stall doors to release the entire herd of fathiers. Two other youngsters joined him and urged the intelligent creatures to follow their matriarch and flee to safety.

 

In the midst of this organized chaos Ben gave a series of instructions to the two young newcomers. They immediately dashed off for the spaceport, intent on following their new orders to the letter.

Ben turned to leave but realized the first child, the one who’d pressed the button, was nowhere to be seen.

 

He was easy enough to find in the Force—what an astonishingly powerful Force signature this small slave child had! Ben ran to where he sensed the child to be, only to come upon an enormous being viciously shocking the boy in the legs with an electro-whip so that they crumpled beneath him and his small form fell to the ground.

“No!” Ben growled, using the Force to slam the great brute against the far wall, not caring if he survived. 

He scooped the surprised child up and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, knowing it was only moments before security forces of some type were upon them. As Ben raced out of the stables and headed in the direction of the spaceport, a large security team ordered them to stop, sending stun bolts their way when Ben didn't comply. Ben waved his free hand and redirected the stun bolts so that they knocked out the entire group who’d fired them. 

“Jedi!” The small boy he was carting had begun laughing gleefully, apparently enjoying his temporary inability to walk much more than he’d ever expected to.

 

” I am _not _a Jedi!” Ben insisted, still running. Before long they'd reached the Rebel ship his contacts had identified earlier.__

____

____

Ben Force-removed the weapons belonging to the guards stationed on either side of the ramp before rushing headlong into the ship and nearly bowling Rose Tico over in the process.

 

“Ben Solo!” Rose cried in surprise, hardly expecting him to be the one to safely deliver the last child to the ship his young companions had already reached. Ben deposited the boy onto the nearest seat and meant to seek Rey. He’d once promised her she wasn’t alone. Her words had cut him to the core but he meant to keep that vow; plainly she needed him now more than ever. 

 

“Ben Solo?” Young Temiri Bagg shrieked, beyond elated to discover that his mysterious rescuer was none other than their newest hero himself. Every slave on Cantonica knew tonight would mark the liberation of the downtrodden of Canto Bight. Temiri was somehow bouncing up and down despite his temporarily incapacitated legs and could hardly wait to tell the others every last detail of his thrilling adventure.

 

The childrens’ excited cries barely registered; what seared its way into Ben’s soul was the image of Rey in Poe Dameron’s arms. Ben could see them clearly through the doorway. She hadn’t even noticed his presence.

 

He staggered backward nearly stumbling over Finn, who’d joined Rose and their charges in the main cabin. The newly rescued slave children were far too excited about seeing their hero in the flesh to notice the moment the cold mask slipped over his features. 

 

Rose thought it looked as though a light had been extinguished.

“Go!” Ben managed a hoarse whisper to Rose, his eyes still riveted on Rey.

 

Rey turned at that moment. All colour drained from her face. She opened her mouth to say what she knew she needed to, but the words would not come out.

 

His did. “I keep _my _promises, Scavenger.” He hissed the words.__

____

____

 

Then Ben Solo turned and disappeared into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey considering herself ‘an independent scavenger of the metal lands, beholden to no one’ is a direct quote from the novelization of TFA. I’d always assumed she was a slave. I stand corrected.
> 
> Who else thinks John Williams ought to be given an Episode IX cameo at the keyboard/conducting—maybe even in Canto Casino? It’s long overdue, wouldn’t you say?!


	17. Chapter 17

+

 

Rey’s hands flew over the shuttle’s controls as she prepared for immediate departure. No one considered it Snoke’s any longer. By unspoken agreement this sleek shuttle was unquestionably the property of the Last Jedi—not that she was a Jedi, or that she ever would be.

It was time. 

Time for her to stop shoving certain truths into dark corners.

She’d been a coward and a fool.

She’d shut herself off from the only person who understood her so well he felt like a part of her. She’d let her fears and insecurities overwhelm her, and to what end? She shuddered to consider it.

 

She vividly recalled flinging herself into Poe Dameron’s arms and confessing she was nothing but a fraud.

Worse, that _she _was the out-of-control monster who’d nearly torn the base apart the night Leia’d died, and that Ben Solo had actually been trying to help her. She’d even told Poe what she’d done on Jakku so very long ago in her desperate fear and anger.__

She’d finished by telling him she was no use to the Rebellion because she was a wild card they couldn’t rely on. She was no Jedi. 

She’d told him she had to go.

Poe hadn’t said a word, he’d simply held her while she cried. 

 

When she’d glanced up to discover Ben standing there, looking so utterly devastated, she hadn’t found the words she knew he needed to hear. A child of isolation, of solitude, words had failed her in that moment.

 

She’d seen Ben’s expressive features freeze into a mask every bit as terrifying as any he’d worn as Kylo Ren. All traces of the gentleness she now realized he’d always looked at her with had been erased.

 

Then she’d gone and let him down again. She’d let him leave.

 

Poe had silently disappeared into the cockpit, leaving Rey to the familiarity of solitude. 

However, Finn and Rose hadn’t permitted her to hide herself away. Finn, her first friend, had held her until his shirt was wet from her tears—Rey, who so seldom cried at all—and then Rey had gone on to tell the whole wretched story to he and a very sympathetic Rose on their journey back to the Rebel base.

Anticipating nothing but their rejection and disdain, her friends had surprised her. Finn had struggled mightily upon learning of the incredible connection she shared with the man who’d nearly killed him, that much was true. But to his credit he’d listened without interruption. He’d gaped in total disbelief only when she’d pressed that precious data chip into his hands. She’d completely forgotten about giving it to Poe.

Rose had been furious, but not for the reason Rey had expected.

Once she’d finished giving Rey another shoulder to cry on she’d ripped into Rey for rejecting Ben Solo and for being enough of an idiot to deny the depth of her own feelings for the man who clearly loved her.

Ben Solo loved her? She’d never so much as allowed herself to consider the possibility.

Nor had she had any idea how he’d inconvenienced himself night after night by adjusting his sleep cycles so that they always aligned with her own. He had been quite literally chasing her nightly Force terrors away with his presence. Rose had explained in great detail how Ben would appear without fail the moment she fell asleep, and that he’d just hold her. _He _was the reason her nights were now as peaceful as her days were tortured.__

Rose had been locking herself in with them every time, essentially protecting Rey’s protector from accidental discovery by anyone else. 

Rose had told no one.

That had been difficult. She had hated the necessity. She had been torn, she had at least wanted to tell Finn—who was stunned.

 

Ben had also told Rose the truth of Rey having closed herself off from the Force, although he’d insisted it was Rey’s right to to explain her reasoning to others when and if she chose to.

 

An inquisitive whistle from behind her put an end to Rey’s recollections, breaking the stillness of the cockpit as the eerie light of hyperspace streaked past.

”Decided to hitch a ride, did you? Why am I not surprised?” R2-D2 had apparently rolled aboard the shuttle the minute he’d finished delivering his messages to the parties concerned. The nosy unit was curious as to Rey’s destination. He’d elected to pester her instead of the unfamiliar ship for the particulars. 

 

“Takodana. Rumour has it that’s where they’re based. Hopefully he’ll be there. Or they’ll at least know where he is.” Another whistle, this time in admonishment. Rey pursed her lips at the droid’s tone. “No, I’m not going to use the Force.” Rey wasn’t ready to face the Force again, but she knew she needed to reach Ben Solo. 

 

+

 

“He’s gone, child.”

Maz’s enormous eyes blinked at her sympathetically from behind thick lenses.

 

“How will I find him?”

 

“You know how to find him.”

It was impossible, she couldn’t—

“You do yourself no favours, child. Not by trying to fight the Force.”

 

“Free will.” Rey lifted her chin. “ I have a free will.”

Maz chuckled softly. “A towering will. Of that there is no question. It has served you well.” She reached up to stroke Rey’s cheek, thoughtful. “Take care how you exercise it, young one. You can also freely choose to do yourself more harm than good.”

 

“Why...why does it all have to be so hard?” Rey bit her lower lip hard to keep it from trembling. 

 

“Does it, truly? What are you afraid of, Rey of Jakku?” 

 

Power. His power. Her own. 

The staggering power the Force allowed them to channel. 

 

Their power.

She feared it. She hadn’t when she’d first sought Luke, but she did now. She didn’t voice those fears aloud but the wizened figure standing before her seemed to sense them anyway. 

 

“Perhaps that, my dear, is why you have been chosen.”

 

Maz reached out and took one of Rey’s hands in her own. “Remember, child—you must leave your past _in _the past, or it can destroy your future.”  
__

 

“Find him! He needs you.”

 

+

Chosen one! _Chosen One! _A cruel mockery of a title.__

____

They’d taken to calling him that, the ones he’d helped break free of their shackles. There were millions of them, now. On so many worlds. And amongst themselves they’d reportedly ‘chosen’ him. Him, a monster. A murderer. Their _‘Chosen One’. _All because he’d guided them out of their wretchedness as he’d promised. That was all he’d promised! Never had he sworn to _lead _them to anything else! That had never been his intention, that was surely not his responsibility.____

Did none of the rest of it matter any longer? That he was a monster? How could it suddenly not? How was it that so many seemed able to overlook what he’d never be able to? 

Neither could _she _. Not her. Not the only one he wanted to choose him, the one he _needed _to choose him. His Rey had apparently chosen another. Poe Dameron, to be exact; the very man his mother had _chosen _as her own successor, the man who’d always lived up to Leia’s expectations in a way her own son never had. Despite how far he had come, it was a bitter pill to swallow.______

__

__

____

He’d found her in Dameron’s arms.

 

Chosen One.

Chosen by millions who’d never so much as met him. 

 

Rejected by those he’d loved the most. By her, the one who he’d mistakenly felt shared his very soul.

 

Yes, Snoke had twisted his perceptions and warped them beyond all repair, but he’d come to realize that his parents had always loved him and that Luke had, too.

But the cold truth remained that all three had once chosen something over him.

 

They were weak and flawed and miserable, just as he was. Only, they were also dead. 

 

It gutted him that _she _had rejected him, too.__

____

____

 

The Force was playing the cruelest of jokes on him and he suddenly hated it. 

 

 

His lightsaber blazed in Mustafar’s darkness.

 

He’d fled here, to the one place in the galaxy he was certain no one would ever seek him out. _Where he’d never be able hurt anyone as he descended into the darkness raging around him _, whispered the lingering traces of light still stubbornly blazing through the cracks in the inky blackness threatening to consume him.__

____

____

 

He slashed viciously at the numerous rocky outcroppings surrounding Vader’s lonely fortress, the one Kylo Ren had sought so many times before, always seeking answers that never seemed to come. He sent boulders flying into molten flows of lava, scarcely noticing how quickly they were engulfed in its searing heat.

He felt like he could barely breathe.

With both hands he rammed his lightsaber deep into the black volcanic rock of this volatile, unstable planet.

 

He was at the very spot he’d killed her, he knew. Where Anakin Skywalker had struck down his wife.

His love. 

_I tore the galaxy apart on account of your grandmother _—Artoo had shown him the recording, he’d actually seen with his own eyes how Anakin Skywalker had so viciously Force-choked the woman he loved, the woman who was carrying his children, in a fit of jealous rage.__

_What will you do for love of Rey? _Not enough. Not enough to win her.__

____

It was too cruel.

 

Kylo Ren’s angry blade hissed and crackled against Mustafar’s black sky.

 

Then he stilled. He could sense her presence.

 

She was here.

 

 

+


	18. Mustafar

+

 

Even with the fortress of his mind walled off against her hopeful attempts to reach him, Rey could feel the intensity of Ben Solo’s despair seeping into a new blackness swirling around him in the Force.

It was as if he had no idea what to do with himself, let alone his emotions.

He was lashing out in pain, in anger, in frustration. The caged beast that had been released in Snoke’s throne room was hurting anew, and old wounds had reopened.

He feared she’d abandoned him. Rejected him as everyone else once had.

Never had she meant to inflict such suffering upon him.

 

 

Maz’s words had prompted Rey to retreat to the lushness of the forest surrounding her ancient castle, the one Rey learned had once been a battleground between Jedi and Sith in ages past. 

It was the place she’d first met him, the figure she’d somehow always known from her daydreams and her nightmares. Cross-legged among the ferns, she’d found the strength to take the first step toward healing what had wounded her bondmate more than any blaster bolt ever could.

She’d closed her eyes and opened herself to the Force again, and this time there had been no tremors, no earth shaking. Just relief, joy, freedom and certainty.

Without hesitation she’d made her way back to her shuttle and the Force’s whispers had guided her to set coordinates for a system she’d never so much as heard of.

She knew exactly where she was meant to be. 

By his side.

The vision she’d glimpsed when their fingertips had touched in the firelight hadn’t been a lie.

 

+

 

“You should probably stay here with the ship, Artoo. These conditions aren’t going to do any wonders for your circuitry.” Rey stepped onto the surface of the incredibly unstable planet, the one the little astromech had told her was called Mustafar. The droid ignored her suggestion and trundled along behind her at a distance.

Mustafar. According to Artoo it was Lord Vader himself who’d built the castle-like structure that loomed over them in a strange homage to the beloved wife he’d essentially murdered by Force-choking her in a fit of rage and jealousy. Technically she’d died elsewhere while giving birth to Luke and Leia, but Artoo was convinced Anakin’s actions had robbed Padme of all will to live.

Lord Vader’s flesh and blood was at this very place. It felt to Rey as if he’d become as unstable as the entire planet.

She was unafraid; she knew herself to be his equal in the Force.

 

Anakin’s grandson awaited her in the distance. As she neared him she could see that his face was as pale as death. His raven locks were dishevelled, and his crimson cloak billowed about him in the hot wind sweeping this strange planet’s harsh surface.

His powerful form was silhouetted against the eerie glow of the fiery lava flows coursing around the barren plateau he stood upon. He awaited her in silence, his scarlet saber drawn, ignited and gleaming in anticipation. 

Faint tremors shook the earth at Rey’s approach.

His lip curled in a snarl at the sight of her.

Undaunted, Rey continued her steady approach, empty hands at her sides.

She could sense his resolve wavering; he was confused, afraid of feeling any spark of hope for fear of how that vulnerability might destroy him. He was afraid of feeling even more pain than he already felt. He was terrified at how much he needed her and hated that he did. He despised himself even more—yes, he was brimming over with self-loathing. That much she felt in the unguarded split-second before he managed to slam his mind shut against hers again.

The harsh set to his features made his face appear almost that of a stranger.

It was as if he were daring her _not _to reject him.__

__Halting only when she was close enough to touch him, Rey reached up to trail a slender finger over the scar on his stubble-darkened face. “I’m so sorry.” Her clear hazel eyes held his as she whispered the words. Never in her life had she been so sincere._ _

__Without a word Ben flung his hand to one side and Force-launched Rey against a large, smooth rock nearby so that she was pinned against it like a star. She hadn’t needed to channel the Force to cushion herself from the impact—he’d taken care not to harm her. Still, had she been an ordinary woman and he an ordinary man, the situation would have been disturbing._ _

__Rey elected to remain exactly where she was. A battle of wills would serve them poorly; they’d torn the Skywalker saber apart in their last one. She knew herself to be one with the Force, and so she was completely safe—even if he actually turned on her like some feral beast intent on ripping her to shreds._ _

__The sharp planes of his face were cast in strange shadow. He stalked toward her and the rock he’d pinned her against so that she faced him, his eyes glinting shards of obsidian in the odd half-light._ _

__When he was only a breath away he snarled and drove his angry saber hard into the rock just beside her, right up to its spitting, cross-guarded hilt. In the same motion his left arm snaked around her like a vice so that his strong hand was at the nape of her neck. He must have Force-ripped her clothing from her entirely. She could feel his ragged breath against the hollow of her throat—and that was not all._ _

__Because his powerful body was pressed full length along hers._ _

__“What do you really want, Ben?” Her voice sounded almost husky in his ear._ _

__In his frustration he bit her shoulder hard enough to draw blood._ _

__Stunned by his own actions, Ben Solo fell to his knees and the Force bond flared open between their minds. What had he just done? And what had he almost done? This was not how he wanted anything between them. He’d die before he harmed her, he’d do anything to protect her— She was telling him something. He couldn’t focus on the words._ _

__“You’re not meant to kneel, Ben Solo. Not to anyone.” Rey was kneeling in front of him at his apparent refusal to stand back up, and he could feel her fingers running through his hair and softly brushing his face._ _

__When he finally summoned the courage to open his eyes, to his utter astonishment he found Rey right there on her knees with him, smiling into his eyes with a brightness that matched any sun’s._ _

__She wasn’t afraid._ _

__She was telling him she’d always choose him, just him._ _

__She didn’t fear the Force, she didn’t fear the wildness in him, how he felt so much, always. She was looking into his face as if she loved him._ _

__Rey loved him. He felt the truth of it in her mind, but then she actually said the words aloud. “I love you, Ben Solo.” He’d never heard anything so beautiful._ _

__The mirrors of their eyes showed them only each other._ _

__“I think I’ve always loved you, Rey. Always.” Were those tears in their eyes?_ _

__His hands had somehow found her waist, and hers had wound themselves around his neck. She was so beautiful...and not wearing much thanks to his earlier actions. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers in silent apology for having lost control of himself. He couldn’t help but recall how brutally he’d thrust himself into her mind so long ago on Starkiller, without warning, without any consent...he’d hurt her then, he’d frightened her. And then, what he’d said..no, he’d never want anything of her that she wouldn’t freely give herself. Not ever. Those words, those awful words, they still haunted him:_ “You know I can take whatever I want” ___

____ _ _

____Rey kissed him full on the mouth with the same ferocity she’d fought with on the Supremacy. Grinning wickedly, she Force-flattened him onto his back before straddling him._ _ _ _

____“Then maybe you should.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____Some time later, Ben Solo finally swept Rey up in his crimson cloak and carried her into the castle that had loomed over them the entire time. She could have walked, of course, only he insisted he didn’t want to risk the soles of her bare feet being cut on any sharp black volcanic rock._ _ _ _

____Its sad strangeness beckoned to them, and its halls had been so long empty of all but the small army of maintenance droids that had seen to its care for so long._ _ _ _

____There, in a monument to a great love gone horribly wrong, they continued to erase the distinctions between where one of them ended and the other began._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Some said that the Chosen One had arrived on Takodana with his bride in his arms, wrapped only in a crimson cloak, her bare feet dangling and her unbraided hair cascading around her shoulders as they beamed at each other._ _ _ _

____Others insisted they’d descended together from their sleek shuttle as regally and as finely dressed as any King or Queen in a fairy story._ _ _ _

____All agreed that the pair had chosen to marry in a lush green clearing dappled with morning sunlight._ _ _ _

____Chewbacca the Wookie had reportedly been present, as had Lando Calrissian. The former Stormtrooper known as Finn and a petite mechanic named Rose Tico had also been in attendance. (That had been possible thanks to the binary beacon Chewie had given to Finn after hiding its mate strategically aboard Snoke’s shuttle the night of Leia’s passing.)_ _ _ _

____Maz Kanata and a Sullustan by the name of Nien Nunb were also present._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____One curious onlooker—namely, a small former slave child from Canto Bight—swore that a number of faintly glowing figures had been in the shadows, but surely he’d been exaggerating for effect._ _ _ _

____The proceedings were recorded for posterity by the droids C3-PO and R2-D2, who had reportedly performed the same service at the secret wedding of the bridegroom’s grandparents._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Artoo. A word.”_ _ _ _

____The blue and white astromech’s domed head swivelled in the direction of Ben Solo._ _ _ _

____“Did you, or did you not, happen to take it upon yourself to record what transpired at that rock?”_ _ _ _

____The droid beeped a vague response._ _ _ _

____“You _know _what I’m referring to. Rock. Mustafar.”___ _ _ _

______Artoo was uncharacteristically silent, giving Ben all the information he needed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“R2. There’s such a thing as going too far.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______A saucy retort from the droid, who’d never had his memory wiped._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, that wasn’t exactly my finest moment either. But you will erase that recording at once! And not_ after _giving it to Threepio. It doesn’t belong in this story!”______

_____ _

_____ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________+_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	19. A Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere thanks for your comments, kudos and subscriptions. Your feedback is always welcome.

+

 

 

“Shoot me.”

Rey gestured to the blaster she’d just handed him and backed up a few paces.

“Go on.”

Finn muttered under his breath as he checked that it was set to stun. “Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

“I understand the principle well enough. I think. I just need to try it for myself.”

“Right.” Finn heaved a sigh as he trained the blaster at his friend. “Hux has put a huge bounty on your heads. This might come in handy.”

“Exactly. Nobody needs to get hurt unnecessarily.”

That had not been what he’d meant. Supreme Leader Hux had just placed such a lucrative bounty on Ben Solo and Rey that not many mercenaries in the galaxy would be able to resist trying for them despite the obvious danger. Alive or dead—preferably the latter—the pair had now become the galaxy’s most wanted individuals, yet Rey only seemed worried about what might happen to everyone else.

“Okay then, here goes nothing.” Finn squeezed the trigger and Rey sent the stun bolts flying harmlessly toward the thick stone walls of the fortress Maz Kanata had made her base of operations for the past thousand years. 

Rey nodded crisply at him. “Perfect. Now I’ll turn around so that I can’t see you. I’ll only be able to sense your intentions.” 

Really? This was getting wilder and wilder. “Right. One question: since he’s the one teaching you all of this, why isn’t he the one shooting at you?” 

“He’s busy at the moment.” (And he’s sometimes too damn distracting to be around.) “Just shoot, Finn.” 

Finn complied and Rey successfully redirected the blue bolts as she had before. 

Unfortunately, those bolts had nearly hit a flustered Threepio, who was flinging his golden arms up in the air and exclaiming, “Oh dear! Oh dear! Now there are two of you!”

Being hit by a stun bolt would not have affected Threepio in the slightest, not like live fire would have. However, Rey hadn’t sensed the protocol droid’s approach because he was inorganic and had no Force signature to detect. 

“Princess!” Threepio was clearly in his element, but Rey wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to what was apparently her appropriate title. “His Highness has requested that you join him at your earliest convenience.” 

+

The two men circled each other cautiously, each wielding a slender wooden quarter staff. Both had stripped to the waist in the unexpected heat of the late afternoon sun, and a small crowd of curious onlookers had already gathered in the castle’s courtyard to watch them. 

The ragtag fighters for whom Maz’s castle was a base of operations were familiar enough with Master Codebreaker to know that he was also very much a master of any form of combat he was known to engage in. 

Intriguingly enough, he was now facing off against none other than Ben Solo. 

Everyone knew this to be a friendly sparring session; this pair had been on many a mission together before Solo’s recent disappearance. His equally sudden reappearance had resulted in him having gotten married a mere two days ago. This contest was another welcome distraction from the necessity of preparing for yet another foray into a galaxy embroiled in war and turmoil. 

As Rey joined the crowd she couldn’t help but admire Ben’s powerfully muscled form as he lunged at his opponent. She felt his smug amusement that she was enjoying the view, and wasn’t at all surprised when she saw him smirk in acknowledgment. They were still learning how to avoid distracting each other when their minds were entwined—which was nearly always. 

She felt someone elbow her only to realize that Rose was whispering in her ear. “I think I see at least one good reason for marrying him. But both of them are easy on the eyes, wouldn’t you say?” 

When Finn leaned over in an attempt to get in on the conversation Rose merely smiled at him blandly. Then she looked at Rey again out of the corner of her eye and apparently couldn’t resist the urge to wink conspiratorially. 

Rey could see how Ben’s opponent might be considered attractive, and there was no doubt he was a supremely skilled fighter. A tall man, he was slimmer than Ben and he moved with a catlike grace and quickness. Ben himself had a more brutal, unrefined style. Quite honestly, he often looked as though he belonged in the middle of a bar room brawl. Rey found herself smiling at what Han Solo might have made of that. 

However appealing some may have found the combatants, the unusually high level of skill on display was the legitimate reason these two were garnering so much attention, and for all of the differences in their fighting styles this pair was exceptionally evenly matched. 

There was a sudden hush when Maz Kanata held up a hand and ordered a halt to the proceedings. The crowd’s quiet mutters of disappointment turned into ones of interest when the diminutive pirate queen unexpectedly unwrapped the long, cloth-covered bundle she’d brought with her to reveal two weapons of a different nature. She gestured for the men to take them up in exchange for their crude wooden staves. 

“Force pikes”, Lando Calrissian explained to Rey and those standing near enough to hear him. He realized that many people would probably not recognize Force pikes, the traditional weapons of Palpatine’s legendary Praetorian Guard. 

Ben Solo realized he was grinning like a fool, and to his pleasant surprise he could see that his own enthusiasm was mirrored in his opponent’s expression. 

Force pikes. Wherever had Maz gotten her hands on these? 

He knew Rey to be his equal in the Force, but this contest was purely physical in nature. His muscles had been screaming for the strenuous exercise they were accustomed to and this was finally a chance to push his body to its limits. 

The pair faced off with renewed vigour now that the stakes were so much higher and the slightest misstep could spell disaster. In that moment Ben realized something—Master Codebreaker was already familiar with these weapons. He was momentarily distracted by the possibility that presented. Could it be? 

The ever-growing crowd sensed it was in for a treat and was not disappointed. As he and the Codebreaker sparred, something became more and more apparent to Ben. His opponent was using the exact same fighting style he’d recently seen a recording of—a recording that Threepio’d shown him in passing when he’d been watching series of others, those of his mother’s final days as a Senator. The more Ben considered it, the more likely it became that the Master Codebreaker’s dark hair, with its distinctive white streak, had to be artificial. And any man could easily grow himself a moustache. Ben couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the resemblance before. 

“You’ve got more experience with these than I do. I think I’m catching on.” Ben said the words quietly enough that no one else would be able to make them out, let alone understand their double meaning. 

A momentary flicker in the blue eyes riveted on his own all but confirmed his suspicions, and the emotions that had suddenly begun swirling around his opponent left no doubt in his mind. Yet the man’s facial expression remained impenetrable. 

Master Codebreaker felt a twinge of trepidation. Had he just been recognized? He’d always been so careful. Especially around Ben Solo. Was this all about to become infinitely more dangerous? 

He arched an eyebrow at Leia’s son before whispering a reply. “Surely I’d remember having used one of these before.” Not a lie. Not at all. 

“ I imagine you would. I’ve seen the recording. When you fought that Amaxine. And defeated him handily. Quite impressive.” Ben took care to keep his voice low and unthreatening. 

He knew. Leia’s son knew the truth, that he’d been the one to betray his mother all those years ago. Their pikes locked. 

The two men stared each other down over their locked and extremely lethal weapons. 

The one who called himself Master Codebreaker wondered what sort of reckoning he was about to face. 

“Don’t you think it’s time to stop hiding the truth? Believe me, it never does much good.” And with that, Ben Solo finally used the Force to disarm his opponent, freezing both pikes and delivering them harmlessly to a beaming Maz Kanata, who led the crowd in a round of applause. 

Ben Solo clapped his shocked opponent on the shoulder by way of congratulations and the two men shook hands before their admiring onlookers, all of whom had the sense to recognize they’d witnessed an extraordinary display of martial arts. 

Ben led his slightly stunned opponent over to where Rey had been standing on the sidelines with Finn and the others. 

He and Rey shared a secret smile as he took her hand in his own and pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. 

Rey had to force herself to keep her eyes from roaming all over her new husband’s gleaming torso and concentrate on the fact he was intent on introducing her to the tall man he’d just been sparring with. 

The dark haired stranger bowed low over her hand as Ben proferred it. “Your Highness. It’s truly an honour and a pleasure.” Whoever he was, he had lovely manners and what sounded like an Outer Rim accent. She vaguely wondered if she hadn’t seen him somewhere before. 

Something flashed in the man’s eyes when he looked up to discover Ben Solo studying him carefully. Master Codebreaker straightened up to his full height. To Rey’s surprise, he suddenly began addressing her in a refined accent of the Inner Core. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ransolm Casterfo.” 

\+ 

Perched high on the parapet of Maz’s castle sat Ben Solo and Ransolm Casterfo, a bottle of Maz’s finest Corellian whiskey between them. 

The Takodana sunset was bathing the sky in gorgeous scarlets, pinks and golds. 

Each man was lost in his own thoughts for a time, both of them pondering their respective guilt for how they’d wronged Leia Organa. 

It was Casterfo who first broke the silence. “I spoke to her so harshly. I told her she’d had plenty of time to tell you. That you were not a child. I never realized what it must have cost her, keeping that even from you.” 

Ben slowly nodded at the slightly older man before replying. “I assumed it was because they already feared me too much. I used to hear their whispers. I was afraid they already believed me to be something so vile, so abhorrent, that they sent me away. I never imagined they were trying to protect me as best they could. They feared that learning Vader’s bloodline was my own would be altogether too much for me.” Ben looked down into his glass, swirling its amber contents around and around. 

Ransolm made the next comment. “And...Kylo Ren. He came into being not long afterward.” It was more of an observation than a question, and Casterfo grimaced inwardly. He fully expected Leia’s son to confirm his dread that, thanks to his untimely revelation of Senator Organa’s paternity, he’d not only destroyed her political career, but that he’d essentially helped create Kylo Ren. 

Eyes fixed on the lake so far below, Ben sighed before replying. “Yes. But there’s much more to it than that.” 

Casterfo was wise enough to refrain from pressing him. The former Senator from the now-destroyed Riosa simply sat quietly, nursing his own glass for a time. 

The pinks and scarlets and golds in the sky had deepened to much darker reds and purples by now. The colours of the sunset overhead were shifting as rapidly as the balance of the galaxy beyond it. 

“How did you escape, Casterfo? Apparently, the last time my mother ever saw you you’d been sentenced to death and were about to board a transport bound for the Hosnian system.” 

Casterfo smiled wryly. “She insisted on seeing me off, authorities be damned. I’ve never seen so many armed guards so completely overawed by such a tiny person. She would’ve made an incredible First Senator.” 

Casterfo paused before continuing. “In a manner of speaking, my rescue was your mother’s doing. She had strong feelings regarding my arrest, and...well, let’s just say that when that transport made it to Riosa, I was no longer on it. The authorities were only too happy to cover that up. You will recall that it was a time of great turmoil. Admitting they’d somehow lost track of me would have been decidedly inconvenient.” He would tell Ben Solo of Ahsoka another time. That story would keep. 

“She thought of you as the future, Ransolm. Before everything blew up in her face, she was actually hoping to run off with my father and leave politics behind. She’d had enough, and she had so much faith in you. She considered you to be everything the galaxy needed. I wasn’t there, but believe me when I tell you Threepio doesn’t make things like that up.” 

It was a very long time before Casterfo spoke again. Leia’s son was unaware it was thanks to the swirl of emotions that temporarily threatened to overwhelm the former Senator. He chose not to comment on Solo’s observation and took the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “You took Snoke down. That was supposed to be impossible.” 

Ben didn’t reply. 

Ransolm surprised him with his next observation. “Who other than Kylo Ren would have been in the position to do that? Not anyone. Without Kylo Ren, Snoke would still be alive, and the Resistance would have been very, very dead. Perhaps Kylo Ren served more of a purpose than one might have expected. For the truth is that only those closest to you can totally destroy you.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. 

Ben took a thoughtful sip of his father’s favourite whiskey. 

“I could never have done it alone. My father...he helped. Even as I killed him, he was helping me more than I knew. My uncle Luke, my mother, Rey...all of them helped me in the end. I’ll never be worthy of any of them.” 

The two intensely private men sat in surprisingly companionable silence as the last rays of the sun glimmered on the lake just below them. 

To their left, on a sparsely wooded promontory stretching out over the water, the whirling blade of a crimson lightsaber was clearly visible, its reflection mirrored in the darkness of the lake. 

Rey was concentrating on the new lightsaber forms he’d been showing her. She moved through them with a balletic grace he’d never achieve. He smiled as he looked on, knowing she would feel the warm rush of his approval through the bond they shared. 

It was a gift. It was so much more than he deserved. 

“Beautiful”, murmured the master of Hosnian martial arts seated beside him. 

“Truly.” 

Ransolm clinked glass softly against Ben’s. “Here’s to your mother. May we never let her down again.” 

_+_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve given Ben Solo a potential new friend, someone who is similarly haunted by the consequences of his past actions. Was that wrong of me? I know, I know, Master Codebreaker will not turn out to be Ransolm Casterfo in disguise in Episode IX—I did that for simplicity’s sake. Although the casting of Matt Smith does give Episode IX an actor whose physical description matches that of Ransolm Casterfo’s in Claudia Gray’s ‘Bloodline’...
> 
> (If you’d like to read more of Ransolm Casterfo then click on my username and it will take you to the other stuff I’m writing about him. I can’t stand the thought of him not showing up in Episode IX)


	20. The Falcon

+

 

 

Ben glanced up at the gleaming golden dice dangling overhead.

Then he looked to his right at Rey, who’d just reached over to lace her fingers with his and give them a warm squeeze. He could see that the light in her eyes matched his own.

They were heading to Ahch-to in the newly refurbished Millennium Falcon, which had been presented to them with great flourish by Chewbacca and Lando Calrissian. While Ben, Maz and their growing band of followers had been concentrating on freeing the galaxy’s slaves and Rey had still been with the Resistance, Lando and Chewie had taken the dilapidated Falcon to Cloud City. There, they’d lovingly overseen her complete refurbishment both inside and out. 

No expense had been spared. The Falcon looked like a new ship.

Chewie and Lando had flown the Falcon to Takodana at Maz’s urgent summons. 

“It’s a good thing you two decided to get yourselves married so we didn’t have to think too hard about who keeps the Falcon” Lando had turned the comment into a wisecrack but in that instant Ben realized he’d somehow always assumed the Falcon and Chewie belonged together, even if he himself was also aboard. He knew Rey shared those sentiments.

Chewie was adamant about leaving the Falcon. Did he love the ship? Undoubtedly, as did Lando. However, there was absolutely no way he was going to set foot on it with another pair of newlyweds. He’d rolled his eyes for emphasis, enjoying how Rey’s cheeks turned slightly pink and and suspecting his nephew’s ears reddened for a moment or two under that hair of his. Besides, the Wookie was hoping he would get to enjoy the sophisticated shuttle that had once been Snoke’s.

Lando had patted the Falcon’s hull affectionately. “This girl has another mission or two still in her. And I have a feeling you’re the right ones to keep her company.” He’d flashed his megawatt grin at them before stepping back to join Chewie, Finn, Rose, the droids, Ransolm, Temiri and the others who’d gathered to see them off.

 

“This might go faster if you give my other hand back now.” The playful tone of Rey’s voice jolted Ben back to the present. They’d just come out of hyperspace and Rey was intent on keying in next set of coordinates for their journey to Ahch-to. Only Ben hadn’t relinquished her hand just yet...and, come to think of it, maybe he wouldn’t...

“Perhaps.” That was all he actually _said _.__

____

____

Their minds were linked, though, so Rey was treated to an exceedingly vivid picture of exactly where her new husband’s thoughts were headed...surely they could just put the ship on autopilot for a while and..... 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” 

A metallic voice echoed through the cockpit and the pair jumped apart like they’d just been electrocuted. The distinctly feminine voice continued as Rey and Ben looked about them in utter confusion. “There are limits, you do realize! Limits to the sorts of displays I should have to tolerate! Have the courtesy to restrict those activities to areas OUTSIDE the cockpit in the future, thank you very much!” 

“Was that just—“ 

“Did you—“ 

Was it possible? 

Rey recovered herself enough to formulate a coherent sentence. “Did you just speak to us?” Anyone watching would have seen her eyes moving every which way as she squeaked the question. 

Presumably she meant to address the ship, mused Ben. 

Rey was treated to the entirely unfamiliar sight of Ben’s eyes actually bugging out of his head.

“There are three of us in here, so it’s a bit crowded.” Rey remembered Chewie and Artoo explaining that the Falcon’s brain actually consisted of three separate computers, part of the reason the ship was so persnickety. The voice continued: “Consider it a minor mercy I’m the only one of us currently capable of speech. I assure you that this lot are not exactly sparkling conversationalists. But to answer your question, yes, I just spoke to you! You may address me as L3.” 

L3? Ben was wracking his brain but was quite certain he had never heard of L3. Or had he? It was coming back to him now, a story he’d once heard from his father, along with something about never breathing a word of it to his uncle Lando on account of the memory being too painful for him... 

“L3,” said Ben slowly. “The same L3 who started a droid rebellion years ago, and who helped my father make the Kessel Run—“ 

“Helped? _Helped _make the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs? What! Did Han Solo grow wings and fly through the Maw all by himself? I think not! Thank goodness your father was a passable pilot, not unlike yourself. My navigational charts are the only reason Han Solo OR my Captain survived at all! That, and the revolution I started, one that—“__

__

____

____

“Passable?!” Ben sputtered in astonishment. “Did you just refer to me as a PASSABLE pilot? Did you just call HAN SOLO’s piloting PASSABLE?” 

“High praise, I assure you. Become a titch arrogant, have we, now that we’ve stopped all of that adolescent moping about?” 

Rey’s eyebrows flew up nearly to her hairline and Ben’s mouth was gaping open like that of a fish. 

“What’s the problem? You DON’T sulk anymore. In fact, I have high hopes for you. So does Lando, which is why you’re blessed with my company in the first place. 

I wholeheartedly approve of your intention to free the sentient beings of the galaxy from their enslavement. Might I assume you also support the emancipation of droids from the barbarity of restraining bolts? Will you join the cause?” 

Ben was blinking slowly, still wrapping his head around what he’d just heard. 

“How did this happen? How is it that you can speak at all?” To say that Rey was curious was a colossal understatement. 

“It was all Lando’s doing. All of it. My Captain...years ago, when he had the presence of mind to join my brain to that of this ship even as the rest of me died, Lando saved my voice modulator. He kept that tiny part of me with him nearly everywhere he went these many long years. And then, when he and I were truly reunited once more, Lando ached to hear my voice again. So he reattached that small part of me he’d treasured for so long to my brain.” L3 seemed to sigh. “Lando.” 

Total silence reigned in the cockpit as Ben and Rey pondered L3’s words. 

Then, an unexpected shout: 

“Look lively, kids. We are in serious trouble.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘The Millennium Falcon is _supposed _to talk, Mama. When that robot got its brain put into the ship, I thought the ship would talk. It’s obvious.’ (So said our 7-year-old upon seeing Solo)__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
>   
> 


	21. Chapter 21

“You appear to have me at a disadvantage.” Ben cocked an eyebrow and took care to sound flippant.

He watched the corner of his nameless captor’s painted mouth twitch. It would be a mistake to assume this tiny woman was anything other than deadly. Surely she would never have dismissed her guards so casually otherwise.

Ben had no idea she’d actually fought a smile because he’d just reminded her of Han.

Same sarcastic tone, another disarmingly beautiful voice. And where Han had always been cocky, this one...well, this one had the nerve to seem downright haughty even though he was the one in shackles! Yes, this Ben Organa Solo was an aristocrat born and bred, with nothing of the scoundrel about him. At least not at first glance. This Solo also had a decidedly different manner of speaking. That was thanks to his extremely privileged upbringing, she supposed. Two men could not have grown up more differently.

Even with those splendid arms of his locked securely behind his back in genuine Force-suppressing cuffs and his feet similarly dealt with this man was not one to be underestimated. Dangerous—ruthless, even—his eyes blazed with the promise of it; he was no doubt contemplating fifty different ways to kill her even now.

“Who are you?” There he went again, sounding like _he _was the one in charge of the situation.__

____

She arched a delicate brow before replying. “In your case, that matters far less than who I once was.”

What kind of an answer was that? Ben resolved to deny her the satisfaction of having him beg her to elaborate further. He was beginning to feel more and more like some sort of insect pinned down for her appraisal. He schooled his face into an expressionless mask but made certain she realized he was now studying her as blatantly as she was assessing him.

He guessed her to be very near his father in age, though she moved exceptionally well for it. Her fitted tunic, flowing pants and half-cloak were elegantly cut and allowed her maximum freedom of movement. Long, dark hair threaded with silver framed a face that must have been very beautiful in its prime. She stood no taller than his mother had and held herself with comparable self-assurance. 

The mystery woman spoke again. “How you must hate it, the feeling of being cut off from the Force. Does it frighten you, I wonder? Would you care to know how I’ve managed it?”

She’d turned her back on him and he could hear the heels of her boots clicking faintly against the floor as she stepped away from him and toward the expansive viewport. Had she progressed to taunting him? She turned to face him again.

“Your little princess is safe and sound; you needn’t worry on her account. This isn’t about her at all. Although I can quite understand why you might doubt my word. I regret that we had to meet this way...I fear you might otherwise have declined my invitation altogether.”

She studied his reaction carefully. Her captive held himself so still that he might have been carved from marble, but those eyes...oh, they gave him away. This one burned for his wife. 

Lucky girl, she decided, as her gaze roamed wonderfully broad shoulders and a muscular chest that his white shirt—was that Sleedaran silk?—did nothing to hide. And as for what those fitted black trousers and tall black boots served to emphasize—how was it that she got the feeling this Solo had taken a leaf from the Lando Calrissian school of ‘dressing to make the most of one’s genetic potential’? She was surprised she’d actually caught him without a cape.

Ben was utterly bewildered by the inexplicably genuine smile that momentarily transformed his captor’s face.

His knuckles whitened behind him in frustration—this bizarre interaction defied logic.

“You are nothing like your father, are you?” She had stepped very, very close to him. “And yet, you are so very like him.” She was whispering. She paused for a time, still unbelievably close to him, nearly touching him. Then her vivid green eyes bored into his and revealed the steel behind them. “Why did you kill him?”

She saw raw pain flash through those golden brown eyes, eyes that were nearly the colour of Han’s favourite whiskey. Eyes so unlike Han’s, but that her contacts assured her had looked right into his father’s when he’d run him through.

She had her answer. She’d needed to see his face when she asked him that question.

Wordlessly, she placed one small hand on his chest. Ben caught a glimpse of a circular brand on the pale underside of her wrist as she did so; he suddenly realized where he’d seen it before. Then she reached under her half-cloak with the other. Was this the part where she killed him? He found he almost didn’t care. Did it conceal a needle-like blade similar to the one he knew Hux always kept up his sleeve? Would it be a more standard dagger? Or would it be a simple blaster for his crimes? That would somehow be appropriate. His guilt and self-loathing began to choke him, to smother him—perhaps she was going to administer some deadly poison? 

Instead she stepped forward and inexplicably rested her head beside the hand she’d placed on his chest, almost as if she were listening to his heart beat. Ben could have sworn her eyes were closed—it was as if she were imagining herself somewhere else.

Ben was frozen in place, mystified.

“Don’t answer that.” His unknown captor actually had her forehead pressed to his chest, of all things. He was too bewildered to do so much as move a muscle. To his shock he felt her clipping something to his belt. He looked down as she abruptly stepped back. She had just given him an unfamiliar lightsaber, one she must have had hidden beneath her cloak the entire time.“Give this to your wife. It’s hers by right.”

Without another word she whirled and strode from the room, but not before he caught a glimpse of her face.

Had he just seen tears?

 

 

+

 

 

The doors to Rey’s chambers hissed open and a petite, dark-haired woman entered alone.

She was old enough to be her mother, but Rey knew better than to underestimate anyone bold enough to visit a prisoner decades younger than herself after waving off her security detail. Inexpicably cut off from the Force and unarmed, Rey could still have been a very dangerous prisoner. That meant the older woman in the short cloak must be a lot like a sand snake back on Jakku—harmless enough in appearance, yet in actuality more of a lethal viper. 

“Clever girl.” Her visitor motioned to the pair of silvery devices Rey had completely disassembled and now lay in meticulously placed pieces on the small table she’d just been hunched over. “I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

Rey wasn’t sure if she was referring to the platters of delicacies she’d relegated to the floor uneaten or to the disassembled items she’d been informed were gifts. If it was true—that she was to consider herself a guest, and one that would soon be free to leave—there was absolutely no way she was taking unfamiliar technology on board the Falcon without thoroughly investigating it first. Who knew what danger it might pose? 

“I trust you know what these are by now?” 

Rey nodded curtly. She wanted to see Ben. She _needed _to. She had no wish to make small talk. Or to be trapped a moment longer in this strangely luxurious cell—more of an apartment, really.__

____

____

The woman continued, unperturbed by Rey’s evident reluctance to speak. “Personal field generators, powerful ones, and worth a small fortune. I suggest you keep them clipped to your belts at all times. They also protect you from impact.” 

The woman studied Rey’s face intently before continuing. “They’ll come for you with droids. Specifically hunter droids. I would advise you to familiarize yourselves with their capabilities, especially the MO-C series. If non-living entities target you, the Force will not provide adequate warning. You are most vulnerable aboard a ship, as I believe I’ve already demonstrated. Hux’s latest..toy...has the capacity to track you through hyperspace. We used a standard tractor beam to accomplish the rest, and the presence of ysalimiri—Dathomiri lizards—instantly neutralized your Force connections. As they will continue to until you and the Falcon leave my ship. We pumped a harmless gas into the Falcon so you couldn’t cause any mischief upon arrival. As for the cuffs your husband is wearing right now—they are the least of your concerns. They are incredibly rare, and those hunting you hardly intend to take you alive.” She paused, and Rey made no effort to break the stony silence that followed.

“He’s more fragile than he first seems, isn’t he? Your Solo. The galaxy’s ‘Chosen One’. He is very much his father’s son; he has that same sense of justice.” She shook her head slightly before inquiring, “Tell me, does he ever...smile?” 

“Why are you bothering with any of this?” Rey snapped. 

“Consider it...a wedding gift. Although my interests and yours are in some ways at cross-purposes. Do give my love to Chewie and Lando. And to L3. It’s been a long, long time.” The woman turned to leave.

“Who are you?”

“Someone you would be wise to avoid in the future.” 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	22. Chapter 22

+

 

Qi’ra.

The steady thrumming of the unfamiliar lightsaber Rey held ceased as she flicked the switch to deactivate its blade. She set it on the Falcon’s holochess table and flopped onto the newly upholstered bench.

‘Hers by right?’ That was apparently what she was to consider this saber. 

Qi’ra. Rey hadn’t trusted her, even though she’d somehow liked her. She’d disliked L3’s tisk-tisking that Qi’ra had once crushed a young Han Solo’s heart and hopes, and that Qi’ra had been the one who’d taught a young Han to leave—which he’d then done over and over to Ben and Leia with disastrous consequences.

Rey tried to picture a younger, more optimistic Han. She couldn’t do it without picturing the dead hero, the Han Solo who hadn’t lived long enough to learn he’d helped save his lost son after all. 

She’d come to understand that Han and Leia’s boy had always been targeted by Snoke, perhaps even since before he’d been born. While they had both been wonderful people, ones Rey herself had immediately warmed to, the fact remained that parental absence and neglect had left Han and Leia’s only child vulnerable to Snoke’s machinations.

Was Han Solo also somewhere in that place that existed between space and time within the Force? The one Ben had begun teaching her of? It was almost unfathomable how much Ben seemed to know of dark matter and dark energy, concepts she’d heard of but had never devoted any thought to before. Starkiller had apparently been based on those very same principles.

That same darkness bound the entire galaxy together, even as light—and the light ‘side’ of the Force, she supposed—was so much easier to grasp and appreciate. For she instinctively felt there was no dark side or a light, that there was only the Force. Ben found her lack of preconceived ideas a gift.

Rey flipped her new blade on again and took the time to study its elegant hilt. It was a beautiful weapon. Ben seemed convinced it had once been the property of the Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi. 

Obi-wan Kenobi, or ‘Ben’ Kenobi, her own Ben’s namesake. Ben Kenobi had once been a truly desperate Princess Leia’s ‘only hope; Rey knew that much. She’d seen Artoo’s recording. Her Ben had addded that Kenobi had been Anakin Skywalker’s dearest friend before a presumed betrayal helped twist his grandfather into the evil that was Darth Vader.

If this was indeed one of Ben Kenobi’s lightsabers then why was she to consider it hers? It did feel right in her hand. It felt happy, and she smiled at that. Then again, the Force had also once seen fit to guide her to the Skywalker lightsaber.

Maz had been right when she’d insisted that the belonging she’d sought had been in front of her all along. Rey was obviously finished with searching for her family, even though Ben had recently become convinced that those who’d abandoned her on Jakku might not have been her biological parents at all. She felt another twinge of remembered pain.

She hated that Qi’ra had been right to call Ben more fragile than he first seemed. He was. Part of Ben Solo despised himself.

Ben’s encounter with Qi’ra had rubbed raw wounds his own guilt already had him believing he deserved to keep bleeding. She hated that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge how great a hold Snoke had actually had over Kylo Ren and the choices he’d made. Ben Solo refused to accept he was a victim at all and preferred to punish himself relentlessly.

Rey felt bleakness echo through the thread that always connected them now. Moments ago there had been lightness of spirit, a shining happiness. 

It was too dramatic a shift for her liking.

The images in Ben’s mind told her he was at the nexus. Concerned, she collected the two halves of the fractured Skywalker kyber and decided it was time to brave the elements after all.

 

+

 

 

Ben Solo was quite literally sitting on a rock and moping. Doubting himself was a particular specialty of his. How could it not be? Time after time there’d been reason enough for it. 

He recalled the vivid green of Qi’ra’s eyes as she’d skewered him with that look, demanding to know why he’d killed his father.

He’d never be free of his guilt, nor did he deserve to be. Ben Solo didn’t consider himself worthy of any of the adoration directed toward him now—not with the evil he’d done in the name of an admittedly misguided faith. Stars knew he didn’t deserve the miracle that was Rey. He gazed down at the leaden grey seas churning below, pensive. 

The Force didn’t exactly seem to be telling him to stop despising himself either. For what message was it sending him through the kyber he held in his palm? 

After visiting the repository to collect the lightsaber parts he knew were stored there, and after ensuring his old leather belt and the tracker imbedded within it were both destroyed—to his surprise, they already had been—he’d made his way to the powerful Force nexus where he’d once experienced such unexpected peace. There, he’d removed the blood red kyber from his lightsaber with the intention of doing everything within his power to try and fix what he’d once so viciously ruined.

He’d hoped to heal his crystal.

Kybers bled red when forced to submit to their masters. While Ben had never been a Sith, Snoke had insisted he study their teachings and the Dark Side technique he’d employed to alter his kyber was rooted in Sith philosophy.

Ben also remembered Jedi tales of rare instances when Sith crystals could be healed. Apparently these newly purified crystals became clear, white and astoundingly powerful. He sincerely regretted how he’d tortured his kyber, knowing he’d caused it agony when he’d so cruelly bent it to his will at Snoke’s urging. 

Kylo Ren had made it bleed, but the sliver of Ben Solo that had lived within him all the while had always whispered it was wrong. His precious blue kyber, which had once called to him as surely as Rey always had, had endured pain at his hand. Kyber crystals were sentient. First Order engineers who utilized them in their Star Destroyers and superweapons had no idea of that truth.

He’d felt relief and joy—actual joy—surge through him when he’d felt it respond to his sincere apology just now. It had reacted to his intentions, he’d been certain of it. Something beautiful and scarcely remembered had begun whispering straight into his soul from within his kyber’s wounded heart. It had been enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Which was why Ben’s spirits had crashed the instant his eyes opened and he saw evidence of his failure. His kyber had become a dull, smoky grey, nearly black. Threaded through with a slender vein of something silvery, had he actually looked closely enough, it was nothing at all like the clear, pure stone he had foolishly allowed himself to hope for.

So there he sat, shoulders slumped, in abject misery on the very same rock from which Luke Skywalker had Force-projected himself all the way to Crait. 

Ben Solo was oblivious to the steady accumulation of snowflakes in his dark hair and all over his equally dark woollen cloak. He’d failed again.

A quiet voice intruded upon his gloom.

 

“You’re allowed to start, you know.”

Ben sighed, wearily turning toward the familiar sound of Luke Skywalker’s voice. Luke continued: 

 

”Forgiving yourself. Like it took me so long to start doing for every mistake I’ve ever made. Especially when it came to you.” 

The luminous blue Luke sat himself down beside his resigned nephew and appeared to be pulling the edges of his robes closer together in an attempt to ward off the cold. “This might even be worse than sand,” Ben thought he heard Luke mumble. Theirs was a delicate relationship; each had hurt the other so badly. But they were trying. Still, Ben didn’t feel much like talking. Apparently Luke did.

“Whatever you do, don’t sit here too long stewing. You know—paralyzingly yourself by overanalyzing your failures? Been there, done that. On this very island, actually. At least it’s pretty.” He tried to catch his nephew’s eye but that was hard to do under that dark mop of hair. “Yoda had a hut, Ben Kenobi went for a cave. Must be a Jedi tendency, you know? That whole hermit thing? But you’re not a Jedi. At least, not that kind. Besides which, you and I both know your wife won’t go for it.”

Luke thought he saw the corner of Ben’s mouth twitch. No, Rey wouldn’t let him wallow. The kid knew it. 

”You’ve come a long way in a short time. It’s going to get crazy soon, now that you’re going up against the cartels themselves. Not to mention Hux will still be gunning for you. But you and I know that isn’t going to be the worst of it, is it? You’ve felt it, too. What’s coming.” Luke stood up. 

Ben nodded, absently passing the dull grey object that was once his kyber from one hand to the other. 

”So, have your little think, get up off that rock, and go find your wife, for starters. Because you’re already everything the galaxy’s been waiting for.” He saw Ben look up sharply. “For...oh, let’s say...a thousand years or so.” 

Luke watched Ben’s face contort itself into an expression of outright disbelief. “You heard me.” Luke appeared to step toward the temple. Just ‘disappearing’ in front of mortals seemed faintly rude to Luke. He preferred to try and look a bit more natural. “Oh, and Ben? Remember how you always had your nose in a book growing up? You might want to ask Rey about her little library.” Luke smiled and winked at Ben Solo before winking out himself.

+

Cheeks red from the cold, eyes sparkling, Rey plunked herself down on the very same rock Luke had just vacated. Ben felt the cold tip of her nose against his own when she leaned over and kissed him. Ben smiled at her in greeting, but it was a sad smile. He silently shook his head when he saw the twin crystals in her hands. They’d discussed trying this together but now he wasn’t so sure.

”It would probably work better if you did it alone.” Ben looked down at his hands instead of taking hers in his own. 

Rey knew this Ben Solo. This was the version who feared he’d ruin everything he so much as touched.

“No.” Her voice was calm and insistent. “We did this. Both of us, together. We do this the same way. Together.” Besides, if it didn’t go as they expected—if they couldn’t put the crystal back together again—she had something else in mind. 

Ben sighed and moved to face her, both of them cross-legged on the great stone. They channeled enough of the Force to keep the worst of the chill at bay but each was grateful for the heat of the other’s hands. 

The broken Skywalker kyber was cradled in Rey’s hands, hers in turn engulfed by the warmth of his much larger ones.

Rey caught him glancing over at her with the same hope and hesitance she’d felt when they’d first reached for each other across the stars.

She immediately drew their joined hands to her lips and brushed Ben’s knuckles with a quick kiss before sending him a warm pulse of reassurance.

They closed their eyes and reached as one for the Force, asking it to direct itself toward their shattered crystal as it would. It was exquisite, the Force singing within them and between them as it did the same within their fractured crystal. It was every bit as intense and emotional as when they’d actually managed to tear it apart—and Kyber crystals simply did not split.

They felt something deep within the kyber’s fractured heart responding.

When they opened their hands once more they were stunned. The Skywalker kyber had not been made whole at all; rather, it was still in two equal halves, only now both parts were clear and luminous with the finest strands of darkness winding through their hearts.

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” Rey breathed, enraptured.

Ben reached over to tenderly brush away the tears that were streaming down her face, salty trails the icy winds had already begun to freeze. What a pair they’d appear to anyone looking at them, he supposed. Two of them crying tears of happiness over a hunk of something they hadn’t even been able to put back together after all. 

“Yes, Scavenger.” He knew she understood that to be an endearment; she’d managed to salvage him. Ben leaned over to cup her face and press his forehead against hers. “That would be you.”

+

Is this truly necessary?” Rey meant constructing her new lightstaff here, in the First Jedi Temple, where it was presently so cold her fingers were more likely to freeze than be able to solder anything properly.

Arguing with Ben Solo while he was in full scholar mode was useless, of course. He’d just calmly remind her to channel enough of the Force to keep herself comfortable. “I suppose you’ll just say it’s _poetic _.” She rolled her eyes fondly in mock exasperation. For someone so insistent that the Jedi and the Sith had to end, Ben Solo was awfully attached to tradition. She saw him smirk as he caught that thought.__

____

She watched Ben sit down on the edge of the frozen reflecting pool, the one containing the mosaic of the Prime Jedi. The First Jedi. Its seated grey figure was still visible through the clear layer of ice coating it. She wondered if Ben had consciously placed his dull grey kyber directly over its hands. She hoped so. 

Some things were as plain to her as the nose on that brooding man’s face! It was time for him to see the truth. It was time for her to create her staff.

Rey had the centre section of her trusty Jakku quarterstaff in front of her, a soldering tool was at hand, and the rest of the parts she needed floated about her in readiness where she sat near Ben on the temple floor. She shivered slightly, chiding herself that she needed to keep herself warmer. She’d decided she didn’t much like snow, but Ben’s gentle teasing made her smile: 

“Stop moaning about the cold, Princess. The snow’s outside. Remember to—“

”Use the Force!” Rey whispered, mock-theatrically.

“You are disturbingly irreverent—“Ben deadpanned, smiling at her as soon as he’d said it. He loved that Rey’s eyes were dancing as their minds linked. He loved that she found so the Force so beautiful now. At times, what they experienced together became so profound they had to joke about it.

That’s when Ben realized Rey had shown him how to laugh again, something he probably hadn’t done since childhood. When had that changed? Had it been back on Mustafar? Probably. He promised himself he’d think about that later, for it was imperative he concentrate on the task at hand.

“Remember, at certain stages lightsaber construction is fraught with a certain peril. Not that we are in any, not with me guiding you—“

“Says the man who needed to add cross-guard vents to his own since it was such a marvel of engineering!” Rey had meant to tease him, but when she caught a faint twinge of actual pain she decided full-on distraction wouldn’t do Ben any harm. Rey immediately stopped what she was doing, joining him on the ledge surrounding the reflecting pool and pulling the man she loved into a passionate kiss. 

__

__Which he was quick to reciprocate. Operation save-Ben-Solo-from-himself accomplished, at least for the moment. “We are never going to get anything built at this rate!” Their laughter rang out and echoed against the cold stone of the temple as Ben’s despair was temporarily banished from it._ _

__With the tendrils of Ben’s mind entwined with her own, Rey’s nimble fingers managed her weapon’s construction quickly and easily. She could feel Ben’s pleasure in her progress; it made this rite of passage all the more beautiful.__

____

____

__+_ _

__

____

 “Time to light it, Scavenger. If it destroys the entire island in the process at least we’ll go together!” Ben was smiling at her as he said it; he knew as well as she did that her new staff was perfect. 

 

She lit it.

 

White. Blinding, beautiful white. Pure and astonishingly powerful, even with a halved kyber—they could both feel it. 

Ben beamed at her, reaching for the green lightsaber Luke had told him he could call his own. He knew she would be eager to test her new weapon. Instead, Rey shook her head at him.

“Not that one. Yours. Your own.” Rey saw his face fall. He’d never tried to replace his crystal. Not since he’d tried to heal it. He kept its empty hilt clipped to his belt out of habit and very likely to punish himself somehow. Rey sighed. For a magnificent, ridiculously brilliant man, he really could be obtuse at times.

Her husband stood there, looking vaguely lost. 

“Ben.” His sad, dark eyes met her own. There was so much vulnerability in them. She spoke very gently. “Ben, it’s still your crystal.” She meant the dark kyber sitting on the ice over the frozen First Jedi. This particular Jedi was just as frozen at the moment, because Ben didn’t budge.

“Ben! Your kyber! Look, it’s melted right through the ice!” His eyes darted toward the icy reflecting pool and then back to meet her gaze. “At least I made you look. But you still don’t see, do you? Please pick it up, Ben.” 

“Please”, she whispered. So much meaning in a single word. 

So he did, although his fingers fumbled slightly as he placed his transformed kyber back into his saber’s hilt where it belonged. She saw him bite the inside of his cheek in his anxiety but he quickly moved to light it. 

Rey could feel him bite back a gasp. His distinct blade was now a deep, dark grey, almost black. A darksaber. There could be no other name for it. Rey could tell he was speechless and could feel the muscles of her own face stretching on account of grinning so hard.

 

The Force shouted through them both as they engaged their gorgeous new blades, and before long they were laughing like children at the wonder of it. It actually felt as though neither could ever be used against the other, that they were truly two halves of the same whole.

The Lanais could hear that laughter echoing down the rocky slopes of the small island.

Sound carried in such a place. There was need of a new song, it seemed.

 

Their sparring took them out of the temple itself and into the brilliant winter sunshine, onto a carpet of sparkling, newfallen snow. 

“Hey, sweetheart—here’s something you can’t do with sand!” Ben yelled the challenge as he stooped to scoop the ridiculously cold white stuff from the ground and began pelting her with balls of it. Never one to yield, Rey immediately retaliated. Before long she’d Force-shoved Ben Solo into a snowbank for good measure. Laughing as he shook the snow out of his hair, Ben wondered if anyone had ever engaged in a Force-aided snowfight before.

  

Their snow war eventually ended with a grinning Ben flinging his happily shrieking wife over his shoulder and making straight for the cozy hut the Lanais had so thoughtfully readied for their comfort.

The snowfall had obliterated all traces of their earlier footsteps, he noticed.

  

Perhaps Luke was right.

Ben himself would always know where he had been and what he had done. That evil could never be erased. But billions in the galaxy—much like these innumerable snowflakes, blown about by forces so much greater than themselves—did not know all of it, or necessarily even care. It was his next steps that mattered most to them, not those he had already taken. 

The future was a canvas as blank and fresh as the unmarred snow before him.

 

Maybe he—and the galaxy—really could become something new.

 

Something better. Because Rey would help him.

 

 

+


	23. The Orphan of Riosa

+

 

“The codebreaker? What to you mean, _the _codebreaker?” Poe glanced between Finn and Rose in slight confusion.__

__“The one we were meant to find all along, the one Maz told us about! Remember?” Rose reminded him excitedly.__

____  


He did. Of course he did. Poe could see the conviction in Finn’s eyes as the enthusiastic former Stormtrooper elaborated. 

“The Master Codebreaker was the original source of the information and access codes Ben Solo passed on to us in good faith, none of which has been put to good use. Not yet, anyway. But targeting that Stormtrooper programme right now could not be more ideal, not with everything Solo and Rey are setting in motion. And Maz’s codebreaker is prepared to help us!” There was no mistaking how fervently Finn believed in the idea. 

Poe tried to shove all thoughts of Rey out of his mind. He didn’t want romantic disappointment to cloud his judgment in any way. He told himself he’d barely known the little Jedi...not really. 

Dameron had plenty of reasons to despise the man who now called himself Ben Solo without adding that to the tally. He could not and would not forgive Kylo Ren for what he’d done to Leia or to the Resistance, or to the Hosnian system—even though Solo claimed Hux had been the architect of that atrocity and had publicly announced that he meant to bring Hux to trial for war crimes. To Poe, Ren would forever be the beast who’d so mercilessly ripped into his mind. 

Finn had just finished describing Rey’s wedding to the monster in question. Poe couldn’t picture himself standing meekly by like that, never mind supporting the union as enthusiastically as Finn and Rose appeared to. 

Who was this Ben Solo? Did he have some weird Sith ability to make everyone around him lose the power of rational thought?

Now the two of them were insisting he speak with Ren’s so-called emissary—who was, conveniently enough, also this elusive ‘Master Codebreaker’—and to add the Rebellion’s support to an outrageously risky plan smack dab in the middle of a full-on war with the First Order. Which, he had to admit, was exactly the right time for it.

Poe outranked his friends but their opinions still carried weight with him. Rose had a firm set to her jaw at the moment and Finn was looking at him every bit as hopefully as he had the first moment they’d met. Poe sighed. 

“Let me guess. You need a pilot.” 

“Uh, no, actually.” 

Another man had just joined them on the bridge, someone General Snap Wexley was rushing toward with a grin and a whoop. 

Poe’s eyebrows flew upward when Finn gestured toward the newcomer with his thumb. “We’ve got a pilot.” 

Poe recognized a man he’d hero-worshipped as a kid, the star pilot whose face he’d only ever seen in holovids. Presumed dead in the Hosnian cataclysm, he was known to have worked as an elite flight instructor upon his official retirement. 

It was Wedge Antilles. 

Poe felt his jaw drop. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

__+_ _

__

__

__“I do wish you would reconsider, Your Highness. A stronger sense of self-preservation, while apparently not hereditary, would nevertheless be advisable.”_ _

__Threepio was shuffling along in the wake of the two cloaked figures striding purposefully toward the Hutt palace under Tatooine’s blazing twin suns. Evidently that advice would be ignored._ _

__Threepio tried again to persuade them to abort their particularly ill-advised course of action. This time he addressed Rey:_ _

__“Princess, I can assure you that the odds of this venture ending in success are—“_ _

“Completely irrelevant, Threepio.” Ben patiently interrupted, sparing Rey the necessity of replying. 

Rotta the Hutt’s palace awaited. 

\+ 

____

“Let me get this straight: you are telling me we should consider a formal alliance with the guy you and I both know used to wear a mask and skewer people with that lightsaber of his, including you and his very own FATHER?” Poe was incredulous. He, Finn, Rose, Snap, Kaydel Connix and this ‘emissary’ of Ren’s were the only ones privy to the conversation. Which was a good thing, since it was all Poe could do not to take Finn by the shoulders and give him a good shake. 

They had all lost their minds! It was one thing to aid in a mission directed against a common enemy. It was quite another to expect the fragile new Rebellion to actually declare some sort of formal agreement with what amounted to Ben Solo, an obviously very duped Rey, and a growing bunch of glorified pirates...pirates that _did _include Maz, he was reluctantly forced to admit. The slaves Solo’s rag-tag bunch had been so busy freeing were apparently morphing into a previously unknown entity loosely termed a ‘New Alliance’.__

____

New Alliance? That was what Ransolm Casterfo was calling it.

Casterfo. Same guy who’d thrown Leia to the wolves all those years ago. Everybody knew that. He was supposed to have been executed for his attacks on the Senate; small wonder he was supporting Ben Solo. Who else would have anything to do with the likes of him? Poe eyed the newcomer. Tall, distinguished, approximately his own age, impeccably well-mannered...Poe didn’t trust him.

How were Finn and Rose being taken in by all of this? It made no sense. Chewie, Lando—their defection had been bad enough, even though Snap kept reassuring him they would always be allies of the Rebellion. Poe did not care for how Kaydel Connix and Snap Wexley appeared to be warming to this Casterfo. The guy was so charismatic he had them practically eating out of his hand.

Casterfo was going on now about ‘strength’ and ‘common cause’, some sort of new galactic order. A New Order, was he calling it? For a new age of peace in the galaxy? Poe nearly snorted out loud at the absurdity.

As if Leia would have seen any need for that title! She’d been fully committed to restoring the New Republic and its Senate, of that he was certain. She’d founded the Resistance to see to it, one that had become the New Rebellion. The torch had been passed and Poe wasn’t going to be the one to drop it.

Casterfo kept talking, Snap kept smiling and nodding, and Poe felt distinctly out of his element. He was meant for a cockpit, not political talk. And the guy in the blue-grey cape was obviously a master. A master of bafflegab, that was.

What in hells was Casterfo suggesting now? That Leia had considered the Senate’s structure ‘inherently flawed’? Ben Solo had been carrying on about something just like that the day of Leia’s funeral; apparently he and this traitor were birds of a feather. And wait...had he just referred to the General as ‘Leia’? 

That was the last straw for Poe Dameron. Just who did this guy think he was? 

“ _General Organa _, to you.” Poe didn’t care that he made it sound like a threat. He was vaguely aware of Kaydel pursing her lips in what looked like mild disapproval.__

____

Ransolm Casterfo had stopped speaking. 

He appeared to take a moment to collect himself, his debonair facade cracking for the briefest of moments before he smoothly replied to what Poe had so clearly intended as an insult: “General Organa. Princess Leia of Alderaan. Senator. Hero of the Rebellion. Leader of the Resistance. Founder of the New Rebellion?” He kept his intense blue gaze riveted on General Dameron, stepping closer to him but keeping his tone as light and pleasant as if he were merely discussing the weather. He cocked his head to one side, causing a lock of sandy hair to fall in front of one eye. His hands were folded behind his back.

“Perhaps I should add ‘Huttslayer’? Will that suffice?” Casterfo paused to allow Poe to comment. When he did no such thing, the former Senator from Riosa continued in the same pleasantly conversational tone:

“Did you ever see her address the Senate with her head held high, even after she’d been made a pariah? She would have died to ensure the data she collected on a backwater planet known as Sibensko made it to that same Senate, even after it shunned her. For Leia Organa always put duty above all else. Always. 

Together we managed to uncover the first evidence of what eventually became the First Order. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize its true significance until it was far too late.” He had taken a step toward a slightly chastened Poe Dameron. He towered over him, not that he could help it; Ransolm Casterfo was a much taller man. Casterfo smiled sadly, evidently recalling fond memories.

“I wish you could have seen her break the bank playing Sabacc— just so that she could use her winnings to buy a round of drinks for an entire casino! She gave a stuffy young Senator a masterclass in the art of diplomacy that night. Then she set up a sting operation on a cartel leader so deftly I didn’t recognize it for what it was—she didn’t trust me at that point, you see—so I managed to bungle it all with unnecessary heroics. Next thing I knew, we were on a hoversled racing for our lives. Which she saved, because she was a poet with a blaster.” He recalled the feeling of Leia’s arms around his waist as they’d made their escape. Where most other people would surely have felt fear she’d merely tightened her grip on him and coolly started picking off their pursuers one by one, making shots he’d sworn were next to impossible. 

Rose and Finn looked each other. This was all news to them. Who was this guy? And that blaster comment—wasn’t that the exact phrase Maz had used to describe the Codebreaker himself? 

Casterfo stepped even closer to Poe. Finn and Rose could no longer make out all of what he said next because he spoke so softly but Poe caught every word:

“Leia loved Alderaanian Toniray and Corellian whiskey. She adored spicy Ivarujari noodles and had a definite weakness for buttersweet puffs. She also took me for an insufferably priggish, pompous ass when we first met, and rightly so! I can assure you she had a genuine aversion to my office decor. It agitated her beyond reason. So did I, when we first met.” 

Ransolm would never forget the expression on Leia’s face the moment she’d laid eyes on his collection of Imperial memorabilia, one he’d once proudly displayed in his Senate office. It was a massive understatement to suggest they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Oh, how they’d argued! She had come to understand that it had been the strength and security the Empire had represented that he’d admired, of course. His hatred of the Emperor, and especially Vader, was another matter entirely. Leia Organa had come to know Ransolm Casterfo better than anyone... because he’d let her. Working closely together had changed everything between them. Heated arguments had become interesting philosophical discussions; mutual dislike had become...something else entirely. They’d been drawn into intimate late-night conversations; not that either of them had ever crossed any lines... 

Poe heard Casterfo’s voice crack slightly when he next spoke. “Leia comforted a Riosan orphan when after a lifetime of hiding them, he finally told someone his most painful secrets. And he held her hands in turn when she told him how she’d resisted Darth Vader’s torture, his mind probe. He tortured her for hours, Dameron. Yet he never broke her.” Poe shuddered, involuntarily imagining that horror before Casterfo continued. “Did you know that Vader actually made her watch as Alderaan was destroyed? 

I should have gone to her, I know that. I’m grateful I at least had the chance to tell her so when I finally saw her again. I should have spoken to her about what Carise Sindian showed me instead of destroying her credibility while the entire galaxy watched. My own hatred of Vader blinded me long enough to do it; I felt utterly betrayed, you see—by the person I’d come to admire more than anyone else I’d ever met. You cannot understand all that she came to mean to me. And I will forever live with the knowledge that I was the one whose actions ruined everything. I destroyed her political career. Even her family. Because when I stood up in the Senate to declare her unworthy of the galaxy’s trust, Ben Solo had to find out his heritage in the most awful, traumatic way. And we all know how well that turned out. 

Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did to Leia. Yet she forgave me.” Casterfo shook his head in wonderment. “In a manner of speaking, she was the one who had me saved from execution, one I deserved on account of being idiot enough to allow myself to be manipulated so cleverly. You cannot know all that she is to me.

So _don’t _presume to tell me what to call her.”__

____

____

\+ 


	24. Rotta the Hutt

+

 

 

“I must speak with Rotta now.”

“You must speak with Rotta now”, Rotta’s purple-robed Twi’lek majordomo repeated, nodding his head and smiling. Rey, Ben and Threepio had just slipped past Rotta’s security at the main gate only to be met by the tall Twi’lek.

“You will—“

“I will take you to Rotta now,” he added, even before Ben had to prompt him through the Force.

 

Ben raised a questioning eyebrow at Rey as they silently followed their strangely enthusiastic guide.

 

Music and laughter echoed through stone corridors as the Twi’lek led them ever closer to Rotta’s inner sanctum. Ben could sense the emotions of the beings in the room beyond as plainly as others might recognize a smile or a frown on another’s face. 

What hit him was...unexpected.

Ducking his head slightly to avoid bumping it as he stepped through the low doorway, Ben kept his hand at the small of Rey’s back. From the corner of his eye he saw her lips curve into a faint smile of amusement at what greeted them.

 

It seemed like they’d crashed some sort of party.

An astonishingly talented Bith swing band was playing a lively rendition of a tune Ben instantly recognized as “Mad About Me”, a particular favourite of his uncle’s. What he didn’t realize was that this very band had been playing that exact number in the Mos Eisley cantina where Luke Skywalker and Han Solo had first met. 

Rotta’s inner sanctum was surprisingly crowded, and a pleasant hum of conversation was often punctuated by bursts of genuine laughter. Servers circulated with trays of refreshments, which Ben and Rey politely declined as they made their way through the crowd toward Rotta’s dais. Ben noted the total absence of slave collars. Another surprise.

 

Their Twi’lek guide swept an arm out with a flourish toward the enormous Hutt sprawled on a sumptuously furnished platform at the far end of the chamber, announcing:

“Rotta the Hutt!” before moving aside. Threepio immediately stepped forward, fully expecting to act as interpreter. He was most surprised when Rotta boomed:

 

“I’ve been expecting you!”

“That’s never a good thing,” retorted Ben drily.

Raucous laughter greeted that response, the Hutt’s entire bulbous form quaking with it.

Threepio’s shrill warning for them to remove themselves from the grate upon which they were standing apparently warranted another hearty chuckle from the enormous son of Jabba the Hutt:  


“Been here before, haven’t you, golden droid! Unlike my father, I don’t keep pets.”

Ben realized Rotta must have been alluding to the Rancor the infamous Jabba had kept cruelly confined below the grate upon which he and Rey were presently standing. How many times had he heard that story?

Rotta boomed again, “Let me guess...you’ve come to make me an offer I simply can’t refuse. I can choose to profit from it, or be destroyed.” The Hutt chortled at Ben’s expression.

 

 

Rotta the Hutt leaned forward slightly and began examining Rey’s lightstaff with undisguised curiosity.

“Forgive my manners, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve laid eyes on one of those.” 

Deciding it wouldn’t do any harm to unsettle this chortling, overly-confident being, Rey sent her staff flying toward the Hutt with a flick of her fingers, igniting it in the same instant and keeping it hovering right before his enormous orange eyes. 

Instead, what sounded like delighted laughter burbled up out of the bulbous being. “Ho, ho, ho, it’s white, just like Ahsoka’s!” Rey and Ben could sense each other’s confusion and Rotta evidently realized he’d surprised them because he quickly added, “That’s what comes of being hauled around in a backpack as a Huttlet by two Jedi. Or rather, one Jedi Knight and one Jedi of a different order, ha, ha! A never-ending fascination with lightsabers! I don’t suppose you’d show me yours?” He was now addressing Ben. “Rumour has it it’s rather...unique.” 

Realizing it was entirely possible they had no idea what backpack or which Jedi he was referring to, Rotta elaborated. “Long ago, my dear great-uncle Ziro arranged to have me kidnapped and murdered in an attempt to destroy any chance of an alliance between the Old Republic and the Hutts. Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano saved me from that fate.” He stopped and chuckled once more before continuing. “Imagine that, your grandfather coming to my rescue! The supreme irony being that Anakin Skywalker and his mother Shmi were once the ‘property’ of my dear departed grandmama, Gardulla! Until she lost them in a bet.

Now, I am betting on you!” Rotta chuckled again. “You probably expected a den of iniquity, yes?” He gestured to the room at large. Rey’s lightstaff was back in her hands and curious onlookers were not hiding their interest in Rotta’s interaction with his new guests. Rey and Ben found it surprising he hadn’t ordered everyone to leave; he’d simply waved one stubby arm to indicate the band should play on when the room had hushed at the sight of Rey’s brilliantly lit saberstaff. Rotta continued:

“Slavery. Nasty business. Ripping children from parents, tearing spouses and lovers apart, destroying entire families...a far cry from the way things ought to be. Or the way they used to be, for that matter. A gross injustice, a gross imbalance—“

 At this point Rotta nearly toppled from his dais on account of his effusive gesticulation. “Ha, ha! Gross imbalance here, too!” 

Rey was astounded Rotta could laugh at himself so. It went against everything she’d ever heard about Hutts. 

”Do you know your history, Jedi?” He looked from one to the other, noticing how Ben Solo kept one arm wrapped protectively around Rey—despite the certainty she could no doubt make mincemeat out of anyone in the room all by herself. “Are you actually Jedi? Not exactly Jedi-like to fall in love, is it? Although I must say I approve of this change in philosophy. But I digress. 

I’ve wrested control of what’s left of the Hutt empire into my own two hands...” Here Rotta paused, giggling at those puny appendages in self-deprecation.

“The Hutts were once the galaxy’s dominant species, you realize, long before the Old Republic ever came into being. I’m rather fond of history myself, and I find it has a tendency to repeat itself. I also rather fancy the notion of a new Hutt economic empire, a trade empire, one that does not involve slavery, among other things. One that is closer in spirit to that of the original Hutt empire...one that does not include its more...unsavoury elements.”

Ben could scarcely believe his ears. Was this Hutt pledging an end to human trafficking, to slavery, to dismantling his vast criminal network? When he’d shouted that challenge to the skies at his mother’s funeral, he’d never have imagined that possibility. 

“I propose that we allow bygones to be just that. My father ended up considered yours not much more than an interesting wall decoration. And let’s not forget that he put your mother in chains (Ben wished Rotta hadn’t mentioned that; he’d recently been shown footage of his mother in the very revealing outfit she’d been wearing at the time and, quite frankly, there were some things a son wished he could just unsee.) Your mother strangled him for it, though I must say he brought that upon himself.

 

In short, if you’re intent on turning the galaxy upside down then I want to help you do it.”

+


	25. FN-2187

+

 

 

Rose shot Finn a meaningful look over Ransolm Casterfo’s hunched form as the sandy haired man fiddled with various computer spikes and bypass keys in front of the control panel leading to a little-used entrance of the First Order Stormtrooper reconditioning facility they’d elected to target.

They didn’t have a great track record with slicers. 

This one had an eye for detail—at his insistence Rose’s hair was completely tucked under her First Order cap this time, for starters—but was he trying to get them all killed?

 

How could whistling some sort of operatic aria be considered remotely sane or sensible given the circumstances?

As if sensing her misgivings, Casterfo smiled up at Rose and patted his breast pocket.

“Sonic neutralizer”, he winked conspiratorially and whispered, “So I can think.” 

Right. Loud whistling did that for some people? And wow—sonic neutralizers didn’t come cheap.

 

“There...I’ve finished talking to the building...and now....”

More unintelligible mumbling, followed by some humming.

“One more thing...hmm....”

Casterfo deftly slipped an oddly-shaped, blinking device out from beneath his sleeve.

“Looks like I’ll need your assistance now, Emcee...”

 

Was he talking to that thing?

His body blocked Finn and Rose from seeing exactly what he was doing, but he and the blinking device seemed to be working together at the dataport.

 

“Excellent. Thank you, my dear.”

Rose and Finn exchanged puzzled glances. The affection in Casterfo’s voice was unmistakable. Was that tiny device some sort of microdroid? Surely he wouldn’t be talking to it otherwise.

Casterfo held the tiny, blinking entity in his palm and raised it so that it was eye level with his two companions.

“Finn, Rose, I have the honour of introducing you to MMC, Mini Master Codebreaker. I myself have honed my slicing skills over the past few years, but Em is the true Master Codebreaker of Canto Bight, aren’t you, little one?”

The microdroid’s beeps and whistles were barely audible.

 

Finn and Rose watched Casterfo slip MMC into some sort of hidden compartment in his shoe, of all places. He handed Rose and Finn the code cylinders they would require for the rest of their mission.

“This is where I leave you.” He shook their hands firmly. Finn couldn’t help but think the man looked exactly like he belonged in a First Order uniform.

“May the Force be with you.”

Finn and Rose nodded their thanks before turning and stepping into the facility.

 

FN-2187 was about to spark a firestorm among the ranks of the First Order’s Stormtroopers.

 

Lost boys, torn from their families at the earliest opportunity and brainwashed into being First Order troops—with varying degrees of success.

Brendol Hux had stolen that notion from the Jedi—Jedi, who had for ages taken young Force-sensitives from their parents for training, training that forbade emotional attachment of any kind.

Both severed the natural bonds that were meant to exist between parents and their children; both were inherently wrong.

 

Ransolm Casterfo wasted no time watching them go. 

Instead of returning to the cloaked ship where Wedge Antilles waited, he strode into a hangar bay and casually commandeered a shuttle.

FN-2187’s plan held so much promise.

Casterfo’s shuttle slipped free of the unremarkable planet’s atmosphere.

 

All of this had to end.

He keyed in coordinates for what the data network had informed him was the nearest First Order capital ship.

 

 

+


	26. Promise Me

+

 

Poe stood alone in the nearly deserted hangar bay and watched as the Millennium Falcon’s ramp slowly lowered.

The odd hour helped ensure that this meeting aboard the Rebellion’s new flagship, the ‘Princess of Alderaan’, was kept relatively private. 

It was unexpected. Unofficial. Unwanted, at least by Poe himself. But for Rey’s sake, he had agreed to it. Ben Solo apparently wanted to speak to him. 

The reluctant General heaved a sigh and steeled himself for the moment Ben Organa Solo set foot on the ship named for his mother—the one Poe Dameron would never forgive him for sending to an early grave.

To his surprise Rey exited alone.

His heart did an all-too-familiar backflip at the sight of her; she still looked beautiful to him.

The front and sides of her hair were intricately braided and the rest of it hung loose. He couldn’t help but notice how much it had grown; it was proof of how long it had been since they’d parted ways.

She glowed.

She looked like some sort of warrior princess in her elegant tunic and cloak, both of which were made of the finest fabrics. Her leggings and boots were of the same soft blue-grey and a pair of gorgeous silvery arm-guards had replaced her single worn leather one. A silver starburst of precious Chalcedony held her cloak in place. To Poe’s surprise two lightsabers, one much longer than the other, were clipped to her finely-tooled silvery belt. 

It occurred to him that the new Princess of Alderaan had just arrived aboard a ship of the very same name.

 

Poe cleared his throat awkwardly as she approached. “Your Highness...I guess that’s who you are, now.” 

Smilingly shaking her head at that, Rey closed the remaining distance between them, throwing her arms around Poe’s neck without the slightest reservation. “It’s still me, Poe! Please tell me that to you, I’ll always be Rey!” 

A strand of her chestnut hair snagged on a silvery chain it had somehow pulled out from beneath Poe’s collar when she’d stepped back after greeting him. Rey looked at him questioningly before untangling her hair from the chain and what turned out to be the ring it held. She’d never seen it before, of course. No one still alive knew that Poe Dameron always kept Shara Bey’s wedding band close to his heart.

“It belonged to my mother”, he said gruffly, tucking it back into place.

Sympathy flashed in Rey’s hazel eyes. “They’ll be very lucky, you know. The person you ask to wear that,” she said softly.

Poe caught sight of the plain silver band on Rey’s finger, giving her a small smile and hoping she couldn’t see the sadness behind it. He got straight to the point. “So, he wants to meet with me.”

That creature, Poe thought to himself. The one who’d torn into his mind so contemptuously. Poe still couldn’t fathom how Rey could have anything to do with the man who haunted Poe’s nightmares.

As if on cue, footsteps echoed against the Falcon’s ramp and announced the arrival of the one Poe Dameron had not the slightest wish to encounter.

 

The first time he’d seen this man step out of a ship he’d been a sinister figure shrouded in black, striding out of his command shuttle into the darkness of a Jakku night and a scene straight from hell.

This time, Poe observed a tall, dark-haired man with very pale skin, clothed all in grey and stooping slightly so as to avoid hitting his head against the underside of what was once his father’s ship. Did he have that horrid weapon with him? Yes, he did. 

Ben Solo’s eyes went immediately to Rey’s, almost as if he were seeking reassurance. Only then did he face Poe Dameron.

He nodded politely to the General before venturing, “This is an exceptionally fine vessel.” The lost Prince of Alderaan stepped onto the gleaming flight deck of the New Rebellion’s most recently christened capital ship. A muscle twitched under his left eye.

“It’s only appropriate”, Poe answered stiffly. For Rey’s sake he was trying not to growl. Or worse. He could feel his jaw clenching with the tension.

 

“The Falcon looks like a whole new ship”, Poe observed, as if nothing were amiss.

“Chewie and Lando finally got the chance to give her the attention she deserves,” chimed Rey brightly, silently hoping she could keep these two from coming to blows. She kept that from Ben, only sending him warm pulses of reassurance. “And we’ll have to introduce you to Elthree.”

“Elthree?” Poe was leading them out of the hangar bay, Rey keeping pace with him and Ben Solo apparently content to trail them. 

Solo explained: “One of the three computers that comprise the Falcon was originally a droid, one of extraordinary sophistication. She has conceived of a plan to utilize the First Order’s droids against them, in a manner of speaking. Lando Calrissian and his team will brief you on the details when they arrive. The situation is...complex.” And alarming, which the Resistance would discover soon enough. 

“Elthree’s efforts, combined with Finn’s mission, may prove sufficient to bring the entire First Order to its knees without any other intervention.” That got Poe’s attention.

Solo’s deep voice felt like it was reverberating right inside Poe Dameron’s skull. The General hurriedly led them to a small chamber where they could speak as privately as Ben Solo apparently wished to.

“Would you prefer that I stay?” Rey inquired, still wary of leaving the two men alone together...and not because she feared Ben would harm Poe. No, it was quite the other way around. Ben Solo could effortlessly stop a blaster bolt, but any words coming out of Poe Dameron’s mouth might prove far deadlier to the man she loved.

The General and Ben Solo both shook their heads; for once they were in total agreement.

 

+++++

 

The door hissed shut behind Rey, who’d headed off for a quick visit with Kaydel, BB-8 and Snap Wexley, the few here she could count as friends. Everyone else had been in awe of her, if not actually terrified—they’d never met her.

Ben Solo broke the tense silence:

“I appreciate your having agreed to this meeting; let us dispense with the pretence of exchanging pleasantries. This is hardly a social call.”

Ben could sense the Force around Poe Dameron nearly vibrating with his anger. Yes, this man despised him. As he should. Ben turned to face the man who reviled him so, hardly surprised to see the brash General jut his chin out in defiance.

No, this one would never forget. No matter.

“I wish to apologize. Not for all that I did to my mother, nor for the murder of my father; these are private crimes, truly horrendous transgressions for which no one has the power to grant me absolution.

I regret the many deaths I am responsible for, and I regret that I invaded your mind. I am sorry that you suffered for it. But forgiveness? I will not ask it of you, for I in no way deserve it.”

Poe bit back the retort he’d been about to fling at this strange, dark prince.

“I will, however, ask you to accept my apology for having wronged the New Rebellion when I made it abundantly clear I considered you morally reprehensible for considering an alliance with the Hutts.”

Poe was surprised to hear that admission and even more shocked by what came next.

“Rotta the Hutt has granted the New Rebellion full access to their space lanes and will engage the First Order alongside you. However, once the First Order is overthrown, they will not join a restored Galactic Republic.”

“And why not?”

“They wish to negotiate a trade agreement with any government you eventually form but intend to join the New Order.” 

New Order. Freed worlds were flocking to the concept, nebulous as it was.

“That flies in the face of everything your mother ever fought for! I can’t believe—“

“It does no such thing! You have no concept of how grossly dysfunctional the Galactic Senate had become before the rise of the First Order, how disillusioned with its structure my mother became!”

“And you do?” Poe shot back. “Cut off from everyone and everything, off trying to be a Jedi, you claim to know how she felt?”

Poe was correct; he had barely ever communicated with his mother after going off to study with Luke.

“Ransolm Casterfo knew ex—“

“Him again? I have to say I’m getting a little tired of hearing his name! He betrayed your mother! He ruined her! I wouldn’t trust his agen—-“

“I can assure you that Ransolm Casterfo’s integrity is beyond reproach!” Ben hissed. It had been strange, so strange, entering the consciousness of someone who was not Rey, not the other half of his own soul. Someone who’d begged him to, someone who had needed him to understand everything. That indescribable experience, coupled with all that he had gleaned from Threepio and everyone else who’d been able to fill in the blanks, had led him to believe that Leia Organa had seen Ransolm Casterfo as one who could light the way for a new era of true cooperation in galactic politics. If only he could make this man see what he had, what his mother had...

“How can you possibly be so sure?” Dameron scoffed.

Ben’s dark eyes glittered dangerously. “The Force doesn’t lie, Dameron. Even if people do.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, but you do.”

Ben’s voice had become ever so soft, his tone contemplative. “That feeling inside of you...guiding you, when you do things as astonishing as singlehandedly taking out every surface cannon of a Dreadnaught...that indescribable _something _telling you just when to bank, when to accelerate. You could have made the shot I did on the Raddus’ hangar bay. You know it. You’ve thought about it. And you know perfectly well that no one else could have. Just you. And I. And Rey, now. Probably Chewbacca.”__

__  
Poe had never considered the possibility. Never. He’d grown up beneath a Force-sensitive tree, that much he knew. But this? In his mind his piloting had only ever been instinctual._ _

____

“That whisper is the Force.”

Poe’s brow furrowed. He contemplated Solo’s words. Ben saw opportunity.

“You don’t believe me. Close your eyes. Now, reach out. There’s something the Force is guiding you toward.” Poe kept his eyes closed, half of him wondering why he was agreeing to this at all.

He stretched his hand out in front of him; it did feel as though there was something he was meant to reach for. That feeling inside of him he’d usually heeded was telling him so.

Poe’s eyes flew open when he felt a large, warm hand firmly gripping his own. Poe stared, momentary transfixed, at their clasped hands. He looked up to see Ben Solo’s dark eyes boring intently into his own. They were full of pain.

“Promise me that when I’m gone, Rey won’t be alone.”

He released Poe Dameron’s hand only after the other man nodded his assent.

 

 

+++++

 

 


	27. Gifts

+

 

Ransolm Casterfo’s commandeered shuttle slipped through the _Finalizer’s _sensor perimeter every bit as effortlessly as the _Libertine _had approached the _Supremacy _months earlier.______

______Apppropriate code would not help this particular shuttle any further, however. Its operating system had rather belatedly indicated it was in need of major repairs. Casterfo cursed under his breath as he brought his craft to a much rougher landing than he cared for, given he’d selected a heat-sink structure hidden within the fiery glow of a massive engine as his landing site._ _ _ _ _ _

______He’d need to steal another vessel in order to leave Hux’s command ship._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______With practiced ease Casterfo navigated a series of corridors until he arrived at the dataport and control panel he required, making short work of his critical task._ _ _ _ _ _

______Some things just had to be done the old-fashioned way._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You are a wonder, Em,” he whispered to the microdroid he assisted. “I could kiss you right about now.” He grinned as a series of barely audible beeps emitted from the tiny entity, the nature of which made him nearly laugh out loud. “Don’t worry, you know I know better!” Another series of indignant beeps._ _ _ _ _ _

______L3’s code, one she’d laboured over since they’d decided on this course of action, had just been given the opportunity to work its magic._ _ _ _ _ _

______Ransolm pulled up a map and took a moment to memorize the route to the nearest hangar bay. With a few additional taps he checked the specification and status of every ship within it and selected one for his escape. He pursed his lips before giving the order, ridding himself of any reservations he might have had by reminding himself that it was just as easy to escape in a fast ship as any other...easier, actually. Thanks to Elthree and Em he could easily order it refuelled and prepared for him by the time he actually arrived at the hangar._ _ _ _ _ _

He carefully tucked Em into the concealed compartment within his boot; one couldn’t be too careful. Then he looked himself over to ensure his First Order officer’s uniform was pristine. _____Effortlessly adopting a military bearing, Ransolm Casterfo walked briskly toward the hangar bay in question, boarding the ship he’d chosen before anyone thought to question his actions._ _ _ _ _

______He was long gone before the deck officer was even aware of the unscheduled activity._ _ _ _ _ _

\+ 

___ _

___ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

________Maz Kanata held up a hand mid-conversation and gestured for Ben Solo and Rey to follow her through the crowded taproom of her establishment. The trio of powerful Force sensitives stepped into the bright sunlight of a Takodana morning just in time to see a distinctive black starfighter circle Lake Nymeve before setting down a short distance away in front of the newly restored Castle. ___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______“He certainly knows how to make an entrance,” chuckled Maz as Ransolm Casterfo hopped out of the sleek prototype TIE Silencer. She privately thought the boy ought to go back to wearing the capes he’d always been so fond of. Ransolm ducked his head so that Maz could ruffle his hair affectionately; he was one human she had a soft spot for. _____ _ _ _ ______

______“You’re getting thoroughly out of hand!” Maz chided him, gesturing toward the distinctive ship he’d opted to steal with one of her wizened hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______Ben found he had to agree. “Not exactly subtle, Casterfo!” Ben commented as he shook his head. He rewarded himself with the mental image of Hux’s face once the ginger-haired Supreme Leader realized that particular ship had just been stolen out from under his nose. Naturally Casterfo had ensured all tracking devices were rendered useless before approaching this star system._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Subtle? Hardly! But neither are you!” Ransolm’s eyes were twinkling; he was enjoying this._ _ _ _ __

______Rey was eying the sleek ship with enough interest that had Ben quickly promising to let her put it through its paces._ _ _ _ _ _

Maz watched in contentment as the three youngsters engaged in lively banter. Human lives were short and these three were about to face so much. Much more than they already had, though that hardly seemed fair.

______Maz noted Ransolm’s reaction to meeting Liina Calrissian, the daughter of Lando Calrissian, part of the growing group that had stepped forward to take a closer look at the Silencer. Ran knew Lando well enough but had apparently never met his beautiful, talented daughter._ _ _ _ _ _

______That should be interesting, she mused to herself. Liina and Ransolm would be working in close proximity very soon._ _ _ _ _ _

_____Chewie was running one hairy arm over the Silencer’s black hull as he asked Ben a question, Lando was already climbing into the cockpit, and Artoo and Threepio had materialized out of somewhere accompanied by a pair of L3s. Maz found it a pity that Finn and Rose were already off on their mission. For would the little group before her eyes ever meet again?_____

___ _

______  
The universe was burning to its very foundations and the worst was yet to come.  
  
  


\+ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of Ransolm landing his shuttle aboard the Finalizer is nearly word for word how/where the Libertine did the very same in the novelization of TLJ. I have no idea how such a thing would have been managed and freely admit to having plagiarized the heck out of Jason Fry’s work to describe the situation! ;) 
> 
> My imaginary Calrissian daughter is the offspring of Lando and Kaasha, if you’ve ever encountered that interesting Twi’lek.(The Last Shot)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! We are almost there...


	28. Conversations by Moonlight

+

 

Safe in the warm harbour of Ben Solo’s arms, Rey rested her head against his bare chest. She could feel the voice she so loved rumbling against her ear as he rambled on about various legends telling of Naboo’s constellations.

Ben could feel her smiling even though all he could actually see of her in the moonlight was one slender arm and the top of her head.

He ran his fingers through the silk of her hair as they lay entwined in the comfort of the most luxurious bed Rey could ever have imagined. The tall windows of their bedchamber were open to the night sky, where a myriad of stars twinkled against its velvet darkness.

Night birds that dove into the depths of the lake just beyond the terrace serenaded them with haunting, eerily beautiful calls. They heard very little else, for it was peaceful here at Varykino. 

They’d come to Naboo to consult with its famously impartial queen on what form a new galactic government might take.

Hux’s intention to instill fear and mistrust of Ben Solo in the minds of countless billions had apparently come to naught; countless worlds were pledging their support of him, not only the ones he’d led the fight to liberate.

Nor had any bounty hunters troubled them. Hux’s plans—or what Qi’ra had warned them to expect—seemed almost shockingly ineffectual.

Naboo’s Queen had arranged for Varykino to be prepared for Ben and Rey, for which they were truly grateful.

Neither was accustomed to such peace, such serenity. They were finally home.

Home being in each other’s arms.

 

Rey tilted her face toward Ben’s in the moonlight. “What would you do? If you could choose?”

Both knew they served a purpose greater than themselves; neither harboured any illusions to the contrary. Still...

“Hmm.” Ben buried his nose in the hollow of Rey’s neck before replying. “I think...yeah, I’d stay right here for awhile. I’d sit at that great big desk in the study downstairs—you know the one I showed you? Right where that poet supposedly used to write, the famous poet who lived here before the Naberrie family ever bought this property. Yeah, I’d sit there, every day, except I’d write poetry. To you. Trouble is, I’m a lousy poet!” He felt Rey smile at that. Yes, he’d write. He’d write it all down, all of it—everything they’d learned from all of what had come before them. About the Jedi, the Sith. Every mistake, along with every act of heroism that any of the Skywalkers had ever been part of—he’d record it all. Especially his own colossal failures. History must never repeat itself.

“You’d spend half the time reading!” Rey teased fondly.

“You know me too well!” It was still astonishing to him that Rey had learned to read at all, never mind as proficiently as she did, for she had never had the benefit of any formal schooling. Ben had begun teaching her to write and was delighted at how quickly she was catching on. He began softly tracing patterns on her bare skin with his fingertips.

“But you wouldn’t be able to sit still all day, so you’d take me to those gorgeous waterfalls again, hmm?” Rey’s lips were feathering kisses along his jawline and she was carding her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Child of the desert, his Rey could never get enough of the water now that she’d been introduced to it.

“Yes, Your Highness! Whatever you command. Which is why we’d hop in the Falcon whenever the mood struck you and go gallivanting across the galaxy whenever it suited you! Just so you could see everything you’ve never had a chance to!”

They smiled into each other’s eyes in the Naboo moonlight.

“You were right, Ben. Weren’t you. You and Luke. The Jedi—as we’ve known them—needed to end. As the Sith had to end. What do you think would have happened if I’d taken your hand when you first asked me to? Aboard the Supremacy?” 

He breathed a sigh into her hair. “I wasn’t ready, Rey. Not to do what needed to be done. I was still too angry. Not at you, of course.” He nuzzled her neck. “Never at you. But it wasn’t time. Then again, you’re so persuasive you probably would have managed to drag me right to where I needed to get all by your lonesome!” 

Rey’s fingers gently traced his scar; she knew what it meant to him. It was the last place his father had touched him, and the first place she ever had.

They’d started reading the sacred Jedi texts together, finding the most meaning in the most ancient of them.

In it was the writing of one Leor Danal, who’d awakened from a Force Trance to record the following:

“There is no dark side, nor a light side.  
There is only the Force.  
I will do what I must to keep the balance.  
There is no good without evil,  
But evil must not be allowed to flourish.  
There is passion, yet peace.  
There is serenity, yet emotion.  
There is chaos, yet order.  
I am the wielder of the flame, lighting the way.  
I am the keeper of the flame, soldier of balance.  
I am a guardian of balance.”

 

Danal had written more, later:

“Flowing through all, there is balance.  
There is no peace without the passion to create.  
There is no passion without peace to guard it.  
Knowledge blinds without the strength to act.  
There is freedom in life.  
There is purpose in death.  
The Force is all things, and I am the Force.”

 

“Love is the balance, Scavenger. You were literally born to save me, you know that?”

Rey was ignoring him, trailing heated kisses along his neck and telling him wordlessly that this conversation was over. He grinned, flipping her onto her back and looking into her eyes. “I’ve figured it out! Anakin Skywalker came into existence because Darth Plagueis and Darth Sidious went too far. You were born around the time Snoke got his hooks so far into me, right? So—“

He was kissing her right back, but determined to finish his train of thought. Because it suddenly all made sense! “That accounts for the difference in our ages absolutely perfectly, do you realize—“

“Will you stop talking?”

So he lost himself in the one who’d found him.

 

+++++

 

Ben sat bolt upright covered in a light sheen of sweat. His chest was heaving, his heart pounding. He fought to calm himself before Rey awoke. She surely would given their bond. 

He couldn’t let her see it.

He wouldn’t, so he tucked it away. He’d tell her it was nothing but a nightmare about Snoke. Which was at least partially true—

Sure enough she’d awakened and was sleepily wrapping herself around one of his arms. He lay back down and pulled her closer to him. Before long they were losing themselves in each other again; life was precious. They’d existed for so long as touch-starved, desperately lonely souls.

A short time later Rey lay awake, looking over at Ben’s beloved face in the moonlight. He looked so blessedly untroubled and she wished she could keep him that way.

A foolish hope, she knew. 

Wide awake now, she slipped out of the warm bed and pulled on a silk wrapper. Unwilling to risk waking her husband now that he was finally asleep again, she hopped out of the open window instead.

The second-storey terrace overlooked the lake; Ben had told her this was where his grandparents had secretly married so very long ago. Secretly, because the Jedi forbade such attachments. She scoffed at that thought. She had thought it so strange when she’d first learned of it, how marriage and close links between parents and their children was not allowed by the Jedi. That felt as bizarre and wrong in its way as the Sith predilection for dominance. For how could denying the natural bonds that come to exist between people be wrong? It certainly wasn’t the message sent by or through their unique bond. She and Ben instinctively felt the opposite to be true, that love only strengthened a person. The unconditional love the Jedi had aspired to was surely an ideal more easily attained when a person felt secure and balanced by someone else’s love for them.

Shaking off her musings, Rey gazed out over the moonlit lake. This terrace was also where Anakin Skywalker’s Force ghost had appeared to Ben the eve of Leia’s funeral, she knew. She idly wondered if she’d ever see a Force ghost.

Which, of course, meant one finally appeared to her. “Hello, Rey.”

She turned toward that pleasant-sounding voice, only to discover Anakin Skywalker’s Force ghost smiling fondly at her and looking precisely as Ben had described him.

She smiled back, partially at the wonder of it at all.

“My time here is short. But there is someone you must meet.”

 

He inclined his head politely before fading out just as another figure stepped out of the shadows.

A female Togruta smiled grimly at Rey. Vivid blue eyes in an age-lined face studied her carefully.

“As you can see, I am no Force ghost. I am Ahsoka Tano, once Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan. I have a great deal to teach you and we haven’t much time.”

 

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grey Jedi Code sourced from Wookiepedia.


	29. New Threat

+

 

The seated figure gazing out of the oval viewport swivelled in his high-backed chair and turned to face Ransolm Casterfo as he entered the chamber.

They were in a study, one filled with art, datachrons, antiquities and various oddities, all evidence of their owner’s long-standing interest in art and culture from every corner of the galaxy. It was a comfortable space, one that invited quiet contemplation. Ransolm Casterfo was certain Ben Solo would appreciate it. Maz Kanata would do the same.

He nodded politely as the tall figure he’d travelled so far to see rose to his full height and returned his greeting. Glowing red eyes met his own from an angular face of striking blue. Casterfo knew how rapidly this legendary commander had risen through the Empire’s ranks after having joined them by the age of ten. He reminded himself that his appearance at that time would have resembled that of a human male in his prime on account of Chiss maturing so quickly. As storied as this Chiss’ history was, he was not yet truly old. He was formidable.

“Ransolm Casterfo. Here, at the edge of Wild Space.” The Chiss spoke softly, deliberately.

Ransolm knew that in many circles he’d still be remembered as a serious collector of Imperial artifacts. It had been a hobby that had earned him Leia Organa’s immediate ire, of course. That same interest had more than likely granted him the access he’d sought here.

 

Casterfo knew better than to ask for any Chiss by name; such a request nearly always resulted in their outright refusal to speak at all.

 

“I seek a commander, a brilliant tactician, who understood the importance of leading through loyalty and whose troops followed him willingly rather than because of fear or manipulation.”

He could see he had the tall Chiss’ attention.

“A master strategist who valued order and stability, yet ultimate rejected the machinations and xenophobia of Palpatine.”

Yes, the Chiss was watching him very carefully.

“The one I seek did not require glory. Nor did he punish failure or dissent. Under his command, creativity was promoted, and ideas readily accepted from subordinates. It has been said that, had his approach to leadership spread throughout the Imperial Navy, the Empire would have lasted forever.”

The Chiss’ face remained inscrutable. 

“It is my belief he chose to serve the wrong Emperor.”

 

Had he gone and overstepped? Well, there was no turning back now.

 

“The First Order is about to fall. It will have been brought to its knees through the combined efforts of the New Rebellion, the Hutts, a Stormtrooper revolt, and by Ben Solo’s slave revolution. The bloodshed and suffering have been catastrophic.

As we speak, all of that ends—for every droid within the First Order is now under the direct control of the same unit who once saved each and every one of us from total annihilation.”

The Chiss’ expression seemed faintly indicative of surprise. Ransolm could hardly fault him; he remembered how stunned he himself had been to learn the truth.

“Decades ago, an L3 unit of extraordinary foresight and sophistication thwarted a twisted plot centred around something known as the Phylanx Redux, a device that would have enabled the galaxy-wide slaughter of all organics by the droids it came to control.” Ben Solo himself had nearly been done in by the family kitchen droid; small wonder the man tolerated only a few of them.

“L3, Lando Calrissian, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and a handful of others prevented that outcome. L3’s foresight was key to their ability to succeed. The entire operation was so sensitive it never became so much as ‘Classified’, for obvious reasons. Fyzen Gor’s plans were thwarted; the madman behind the plot was destroyed.”

Something flickered in the Chiss’ eyes, enough for Ransolm to recognize that Gor’s name had been familiar to him even if the full extent of that gruesome plan had not. Ransolm continued:

“L3’s actions will permit a relatively bloodless takeover of the First Order.

What remains of First Order forces will require a new commander, one who would be accepted without question, one who could rapidly analyze and deploy those forces to their best advantage. I would invite you to serve a new Empire, one devoted to stability and prosperity for all. Most importantly, that Empire would defend the galaxy against the threat that is nearly upon us. In doing so, the leader I seek would also help save his own people from that same peril.

For the Amaxine have returned. Not the paramilitary group that styled itself by that name, a group I once encountered on Daxam 4 before the rise of the First Order I expect you disdain. No, by Amaxine I refer to the ancient enemy the galaxy once fought in another age, the one thrown back by an equally ancient Empire, one of legend.

The Amaxine seek to enslave or destroy us all. And surely they will then move against the Chiss people. Only a united galaxy can stop them.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo is who I have come for.

Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ransolm’s description of Thrawn in this chapter’s opening is more or less Tim Zahn’s; I have put what are essentially his words into my Ransolm Casterfo’s mouth. I know, I know— neither one will make it into the actual Episode IX. One can always dream...


	30. Chapter 30

+

 

 

First came the Grysks.

Intent on overwhelming the galaxy through sheer numbers and ferocity, the alien invaders lurking in the Unknown Regions had long watched the galaxy, patiently biding their time and choosing to strike only when chaos and disarray appeared to afford them an advantage.

 

Never could they have anticipated the resistance they encountered in the tactical genius of a military mastermind such as Thrawn.

The massive Grysk fleet, comprised of armed frigates, long-range heavy freighters, tugs, transports and warships, was outmanoeuvred at nearly every turn despite how recently Thrawn had assumed command of the former First Order’s navy.

Senior First Order officers, long underutilized and chafing under the iron grip of Armitage Hux and his inept strategizing, embraced the opportunity to exercise their own judgment when granted the opportunity to do so given Thrawn’s direction and the sprawling nature of the conflict.

Maz’s Pirate armada proved astonishingly adept at entrapping and eliminating Grysk forces, passing along reliable strategies to the Rebellion, the Hutts and planetary home fleets every bit as readily as they relayed them to Thrawn who, finally unencumbered by the military hierarchy’d always been forced to answer to, coordinated the pieces on the galactic game board as masterfully as a maestro might conduct a fine orchestra.

Born as it was out of desperation in the face of the Grysk menace, the New Alliance prevailed.

 

Tales of heroism that would last for generations sprang from the pan-galactic effort to throw back the brutal alien invaders: names such as Dameron, Kanata, Casterfo and Seastriker joined those of Finn Storm, Rose Tico and Liina Calrissian, known far and wide across the stars, the latter achieving as much acclaim as her father Lando had in bringing down Palpatine’s Empire. The elder Calrissian and Chewbacca, already legendary, achieved yet more distinction for their courageous actions in many a battle, and billions came to know L3 for the hero she was.

Stories of their exploits would surely live for generations.

Whispers of other, stranger things reached many an ear: tales of mighty Force battles lighting up the night sky over Jakku—-Jakku, the desert planet that had inexplicably been transformed into the lush, verdant paradise legends said it had been in ages past.

Rey of Jakku and Ben Solo were spoken of with nothing short of awe; there had been tales of astonishing piloting by both, of course, although it was the Jakku mystery that truly captured the public imagination. What had transpired there, exactly? How was it that Jakku’s massive Plateau of the Plaintive Hand had been rent by enough force to cleave it in two?

There were reports of Luke Skywalker inexplicably appearing, only to disappear just as quickly, always a Luke Skywalker every bit as powerful as the one who’d brought down Star Destroyers before Ben Solo or Rey had ever been born.

 

Some said Snoke himself had returned to the galaxy, that Ben and Rey Solo had vanquished him on that formerly barren plateau. Some insisted it had been Luke Skywalker who had sent Snoke, along with multitudes of Grysk warships, to oblivion.

Only a handful ever heard how Palpatine himself had stood with them against Snoke, motivated solely by his desire to protect his great-granddaughter. Luke Skywalker was the lone witness to Rey dragging Ben Solo into a portal leading into the World Between Worlds, a place that existed between space and time in the Force, in order to save her husband— just as Ahsoka Tano had taught her.

 

Then, the Amaxine had come.

 

Not those who had styled themselves Amaxine warriors in the dying days of the New Republic, but an older, much deadlier enemy than that represented by the Grysks. 

Thrawn and the first Skywalker had once again found themselves joining forces to confront danger in the skies over Batuu, this time one that threatened both their peoples. It verged on the unbelievable to Thrawn and the few others who beheld it how Anakin Skywalker was suddenly able to interact with and influence events in the realm of the living long after he’d departed it.

The New Alliance was joined in their fight by the Chiss Ascendency.

Tales were told of a final, monumental battle, one involving invading starships being tossed into each other above several planets. Hooded, strangely luminous figures had been reported on Batuu, Naboo, and Jakku again, to name a few.

Finn would never forget leading his troops into a final ground battle against the relentless Amaxine, the alien attackers proving deadly as they mowed through New Alliance’s forces with dismaying ease.

Then Rey and Ben had come.

Blades ignited, the two had launched themselves into the fray and had done much more than even the odds.

But the enemy were skilled in hand-to-hand combat; Finn and Ransolm, fighting back to back, had suddenly found themselves in dire circumstances—though nowhere near as desperate as Rey’s.

For out of nowhere, attack droids covered in the same lightsaber-deadening Cortosis mesh that the Grysks favoured targeted her, surprising her enough with their lack of a Force signature to send her temporarily disabled staff flying. They simultaneously dislodged her personal field generator from her belt and Rey, despite her incredible strength in the Force, was flung off the cliff top the battle was raging upon before Ben Solo or the Alliance’s L3s could react in time.

Finn had been dimly aware of Ran Casterfo shouting at him to grab the silvery device that had been ripped from Rey’s belt and to activate it and attach it to his own so that it could at least be useful to someone. 

He and Casterfo—no plan, no backup. No weapons worth a damn. Until Ben Solo had Force-flung his own lightsaber straight into Finn’s hand and Ran had scrambled toward Rey’s weapon, one that had landed just beyond his reach.

Finn had ignited Ben’s dark blade, whirling just in time to cut down a would-be attacker at the knees before watching, dumbfounded, as Ben Solo leaped off the cliff into the same darkness Rey had fallen into.

Never could Finn have imagined wielding the very blade that had once struck him down; never in a lifetime of training in Hosnian martial arts and quarterstaff combat could Ran Casterfo have envisioned cleaving adversaries in two using a weapon blazing with kybers at its heart.

Rey had fallen onto jagged rocks far below, impaled upon a needle-sharp spire much as Breha Organa had been in her youth.

With his beloved’s broken body cradled in his arms, Ben Solo had done the impossible, somehow seeing Rey to the Finalizer where it hovered overhead. No one would ever ask how.

Ben’s Force-healing, in concert with the actions of the most sophisticated medical droids in the former First Order, had miraculously saved Rey’s life.

Ben had cried for her after their loss; tears of relief that she still lived mingled with others shed because certain non-vital organs had not survived the trauma. Ben Solo would forever be the last Skywalker.

More essential to Rey had been the necessity of saving Ben, for as he’d lain his head against her breast and whispered a prayer to the Force for sparing her life, an unforeseen attack—again by attack droids, droids not loyal to L3 and her droid Rebellion—had plunged a needle into his neck. Not to kill him, but to render him powerless to resist Snoke’s obsidian ring being slipped onto his finger so that the malignant entity could gain control of his powerful form and the staggering Force abilities he had at his command, so much greater now than Snoke’s had ever been.

That ring, which had found its way onto Hux’s finger months ago—Hux had been imprisoned aboard this very vessel to await trial—was the means by which Snoke had remained in existence at all after Luke Skywalker had dealt with the parts of him he hadn’t locked into its black diamond of a gem as a precaution before his apparent demise at his apprentice’s hands.

That ancient evil, so certain of his supremacy now that Ben Solo’s body and powers were his own, had embraced Rey when she’d sought him in the throne room aboard the Finalizer as soon as she was able to stagger to her feet.

The cunning Snoke, expecting Rey Solo was still groggy from her treatment, assumed she would never suspect her husband’s body was no longer his own and eagerly anticipated savouring the delights of her lithe young flesh.

What he could not know was that, just as her grandfather before her had once done, Rey had achieved oneness with the Force in that moment.

She would have known something was amiss even had that not been the case; she knew, as Snoke could not possibly have imagined, that Ben Solo would never have willingly seated himself upon that throne.

The one who knew Ben Solo’s heart also knew her husband had no intention of ever ruling the galaxy he was reshaping; those strongest in the Force belonged far from the reigns of political power.

When Rey embraced her husband’s body and began to seduce the figure seated on the throne, Ben Solo’s love used Luke Skywalker’s green saber—the very one that had haunted his nightmares for so many years after that fateful night at the Jedi temple, the same one still clipped to his belt—to slice off the hand wearing Snoke’s obsidian ring.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you out there have posted stories on A03, don’t hesitate to drop me a line below! (They don’t even need to be Star Wars related; I’d just like to support others who’ve sent their little brain babies out into the ether!;)
> 
> Did you catch the Dr. Who lines I pilfered? ;)
> 
> And yeah, I was living vicariously through Finn and Ran when they got to swing those weapons around!
> 
> one overactive imagination + an underwhelming ability to express everything running around in there = this chapter!


	31. Chapter 31

+

They stood, hand in hand, at the place where so much had begun.

Where so much had ended.

 

The heat radiating upward from the molten lava flow surging a short distance beyond the black volcanic rock they stood upon was nearly too much to bear.

Neither channelled the Force to make themselves more comfortable.

 

With Darth Vader’s dark monument looming overhead, Rey slipped her right hand into her waist pouch and drew out the obsidian ring she had kept there since sliding it off of Ben Solo’s right hand. His sword hand, the one surgically reattached with surprising ease despite the fact the wound had been cauterized by the very lightsaber Luke Skywalker had constructed so very long ago.

That hand, warm and fully functional, squeezed her left one just before Rey hurled all that remained of the ancient malevolence that was Snoke into the fiery lava flows of Mustafar.

Wordlessly, the two made their way to the Millennium Falcon and departed.

 

A short time later, two luminous blue figures appeared at that very spot. 

They embraced as brothers.

 

The Falcon became a shooting star overhead as it moved into hyperspace, and the astonishing power of the luminous ones still standing on Mustafar sent the entire planet into oblivion forever.

 

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I came across footage of John Boyega appearing to make some sort of address as Finn...could that have been a speech? To a very large gathering? Of, dare I hope, Stormtroopers?
> 
> Will one of my fondest Episode IX wishes actually come true?
> 
> Here’s hoping!
> 
> Have a lovely day, and thanks for reading!


	32. The Torch

+

The plain white carton sat unopened, shoved to one side of Ransolm Casterfo’s desk. His staff had long since been dismissed for the day—not that it could still be considered day by any stretch of the imagination. 

Establishing a new framework for galactic governance seemed fraught with more complications than dealing with Grysks or Amaxine had ever been. Liina Calrissian had thoughtfully stopped by his office to drop off some Ivarujari noodles, reminding him to at least take the time to eat something.

She couldn’t have known they’d always been his favourite.

Or that they’d also been Leia’s. 

Or that he hadn’t been able to so much as stomach the thought of them for years, not since the woman he’d once denounced as Darth Vader’s daughter had stormed into his Senate office, torn an old Imperial helmet from his wall display and then sent it crashing into a display case, shattering much more than just glass in her anger at his betrayal.

Much more. 

And then she’d proceeded to send the Ivarujari noodles they both adored splattering everywhere on her way back out.

_“Goodbye, Casterfo. May you get absolutely everything in life that you deserve.” ___

____

____

He’d certainly deserved that. 

His own useless, long-suppressed rage at Vader had blinded him to all that his heart knew of Leia just long enough for him to bring her down. 

Wearily he rose from behind his desk to remove his dark green jacket, draping it over the back of his chair before moving to the large window overlooking the Great Rift cleaving Jakku’s Plateau of the Plaintive Hand. 

He undid his cuffs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, one that was nowhere nearly as crisp and pristine as it had been earlier in the day. It was safe to go as far as loosening his collar; no one else would stop by at this hour. He could finally take a moment for himself. Ransolm let his eyes wander over the scene before him, so different now than it had been mere months earlier. 

It was truly astounding how quickly the new galactic capital was rising up on and around the great plateau. Perhaps that was what came of having droids oversee the entire process.

It would be beautiful, the new capital. Beautiful in its simplicity and elegance, all of it designed around the great Rift in the plateau and featuring innumerable bridges. Ransolm thoroughly approved of that symbolism. 

Bridges were important. 

He and Leia had built one long ago, a bridge that hurt, rage, betrayal and perceived betrayal had seen dashed to pieces. Leia’d restored that same bridge within the span of a single conversation. 

The one in which she’d made it abundantly clear she was passing her torch to him. _“You...and people like you, you will have to be the ones to lead us....I believe you’re strong enough to do it.” _Her undiminished faith in him, despite how he’d destroyed her entire political career with a single fateful action, had humbled him beyond measure. He’d pledged the rest of his life to trying to live up to those words.__

____

____

After his near-miraculous rescue from execution Ransolm had done everything possible to position himself in such a way as to be able to contribute to bringing down the First Order. 

Going to the Resistance was unthinkable; his blighted name would only have tainted it along with him. He’d known perfectly well the rest of the galaxy considered him a terrorist. No, he’d had to find another way to fight for his ideals. Maz had helped him at the outset, and after he’d begun working with Emcee—a product of Lando Calrissian’s ingenuity—Ransolm had become a fixture in Canto Bight under an alias permitting him to keep a close eye on the most strategically significant parterships in the galaxy. The vast sums of money he won at the Casino had mostly gone toward helping fund Maz’s endeavours over the years, euphemistically referred to as ‘labour disputes’. 

Long had he waited, long had he watched. It had nearly killed him to realize he would never make it to Crait in time to answer Leia’s distress call. Once again Maz had counselled him to wait and to be prepared to act only when the right moment came.

Hiding himself among the masses at Leia’s funeral had been no easier. He’d had to force himself not to fight through the crowds and take that podium in order to give the incomparable Leia Organa the tribute she deserved.

But then Ben Solo had come, and with him everything had shifted.

Ransolm looked up at the stars. One could still see the night sky here on Jakku, for development hadn’t yet reached the stage where light pollution would blot out their brightness. 

His eyes instinctively strayed to where the Hosnian system would have been in that starscape high above. Where Riosa should have been, the ravaged, suffering home world he’d long ago dedicated his life to serving. 

It was a cruel and perfect irony, and not the first one of his life. Publicly revealing Leia’s parentage had eliminated any chance of her being elected First Senator, which in turn had led to the destruction of his beloved Riosa. 

He’d played it in an endless loop in his mind for all these years: had Leia had been elected First Senator, could they have overcome the rot and stagnation of the rest of the Senate in time to prevent the rise of the First Order? Could they have built enough bridges between the warring Centrist and Populist factions to accomplish it? For if the First Order hadn’t gained a foothold Riosa and the entire Hosnian system would still shine brightly overhead. 

There would have been no need to construct a new capital had Hosnian Prime not been obliterated by Starkiller. 

It was his fault that his only mementos of his homeworld were a floral lapel pin and the painting behind his desk, a Riosan masterpiece gifted to him by Grand Admiral Thrawn.

In his own mind he, Ransolm Casterfo, had caused more death and destruction through a single choice borne of pain and anger than Kylo Ren ever had. Kylo Ren hadn’t been created without a helping hand from him, either. Thanks to Ransolm, a tiny keepsake box, and a viper who knew how to manipulate them both, Leia had been publicly revealed as Darth Vader’s daughter in the worst possible way. 

He’d never forget Leia’s face in that moment, for he’d been looking directly into it as the pent-up rage and hatred for Vader of the starving child he’d once been had directed itself across the Senate floor and struck at her instead. He’d lashed out at her without second thought.

No, there was no one in the galaxy as despicable as Ransolm Casterfo. 

Yet he had not balked when others had insisted he oversee the formation of a new galactic government. He would do his duty. He’d promised Leia. What had she once said? That it would take a long, long time to get out of the mess they were in? That part might have surprised her. Ransolm smiled wryly to himself.

Ben Solo had transformed the galaxy as abruptly as a solar eclipse turned day into night and then right back again. 

Ben Solo. 

Painstaking effort had gone into crafting a new Constitution for what amounted to a new order for the galaxy. It wasn’t perfect—politics was a messy business. But far better minds than Ransolm’s had laboured to word it so that it struck a fine balance between what the Centrists and the Populists of old had believed in. Those factions would no longer exist: each planet would elect its own Prime Minister, who would be responsible for overseeing its own affairs. However, every world would also be required to adhere to fundamental tenets of the new Constitution, all of which would be overseen by another smaller governing body...with an Emperor at its head. 

That was the sticking point for Ben Solo. 

Not the strong Navy, one presently led by Thrawn, currently fully employed in providing humanitarian aid to countless war-ravaged worlds. Solo had apparently grasped the wisdom of the old adage that peace meant always being prepared for war. Another enemy might someday threaten, though the New Alliance and the Chiss would surely stand together to face it. Besides, navies did much, much more than fight wars. 

Ben Solo was the difficulty. 

The people’s Chosen One was privately letting it be known that he would be choosing not to accept the title of Emperor. 

Not that they didn’t already refer to him by that title. 

They’d started calling him that at some point during the Grysk conflict and the name had stuck. Ransolm knew full well he himself had actively encouraged the idea, but he had only been building on the already enormous groundswell of support for it.

____

____

But the Chosen One, chosen by the billions upon billions who considered themselves his people, was holding firm to his intention of remaining untitled.

Untitled. 

Problematic, as the people wanted Ben Solo as their leader. They quite rightly regarded him as the galaxy’s saviour.

He hadn’t balked at being called Prince of Alderaan—-although now that the Alderaanian diaspora were apparently intent on crowning him their king he’d admitted to Ransolm and Threepio that he wanted no part of that either. Threepio, coming into his own as Head of Human-Cyborg Relations, had been aghast. 

Untitled. The stubborn idiot was wanting to remain completely untitled. Whenever Ran even attempted to discuss the topic he was met with a calm smile and a polite refusal to continue the conversation. 

He’d given Ransolm a note just this morning. On actual _paper _, Force knew where that could be obtained these days. Apparently he held no qualms about exercising his Imperial influence in that respect!__

____

____

In gorgeously flowing script Ben Solo had recorded a ‘Grey Jedi Code’. Most of it was currently peeking out from beneath Emcee, who had opted to act as a paperweight on his desk once she’d powered down for the night. Apparently Ransolm was to make something of those words. 

He sighed, shaking his head to himself. Rey and Ben firmly believed that Jedi—they’d agreed on that title, at least—had no business in government. The galaxy was to rule itself and they would intervene only if the Force guided them to...if ‘balance’ was disturbed. 

Which was fine. The entire Constitution had been crafted around the premise that the title of Emperor was essentially ceremonial. Elthree had been a huge help there—she was at least five hundred fifty thousand times more intelligent than any person in existence and she seemed to find the entire situation rather entertaining. 

People needed a symbol. Pageantry could be enormously comforting in its symbolism, something the galaxy was sorely in need of after having endured so much suffering.

How hard could it truly be for Ben Organa Solo to sit himself down on a chair for two minutes and let somebody crown that stubborn head of his? A memory of warm, laughing brown eyes came to mind at that moment, making him smile. Yes, he knew exactly where the man had gotten his stubborn streak. 

That thought was fleeting. Ransolm returned to his desk and slumped into his chair with his head in his hands. So much for a coronation—their new Emperor was intent on refusing the very crown everybody else wanted for him. 

Ran was reminded of Leia again just then. She’d once remarked that walking away from power was its own kind of strength.

Ransolm closed his eyes and sighed in frustration, coming to the realization that he was too damned exhausted to accomplish anything else this night.

“You look like hell, Casterfo.” The fond amusement in that warm, familiar voice jolted him to his senses. It couldn’t be... 

Ransolm slowly rose from his chair in utter disbelief. For once in his life he was rendered speechless. 

Then he staggered toward her, overcome. 

\+ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!
> 
> More happy reunions next chapter.
> 
> And yes, if the new canon characters were a case full of action figures then Ransolm Casterfo would definitely be my second favourite. I need a movie. Or at least a book!( Do you hear me, Claudia Gray? Don’t force me to make do with the one in my head: ‘The Orphan of Riosa: Tales of Ransolm Casterfo’. Claudia? Claudia? Please?)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading along! Wherever you are, I hope you have a lovely day.
> 
> P.S. The dialogue in italics is taken directly from ‘Bloodline’, as is Leia’s line at the end of the chapter.


	33. A New Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining me on this little adventure!
> 
> I hope the thousands of talented, enthusiastic people charged with bringing us the actual Episode IX have at least as much fun doing it as I’ve had writing this story.
> 
>  

+

 

Rey gazed up at him, resplendent in her gown of shining white. The distinctive Chalcedony Waves of Alderaan graced her slim neck and its silvery matching bracelet gleamed on her right wrist. To Ben Solo she already looked every inch a Queen.

He himself was about to be crowned King. King of Alderaan, a long-destroyed planet that would forever remain a symbol of what must never again be allowed to pass.

Alderaan’s reluctant king fingered the elegant silver embroidery on one of his black cuffs before adjusting the heavy velvet cloak Lando and Ransolm had apparently decided was the only option suitable for a coronation. Such pomp and pageantry. He sighed.

 

The beginning of the formal ceremony was mere minutes away. Ransolm Casterfo had finally persuaded him to do what he’d kept referring to as Ben’s ‘duty to his mother.’ Ben had assumed that resorting to blatant emotional blackmail was beneath Ransolm Casterfo, but he’d been very much mistaken. He was relieved that Ransolm had at least dropped the part about making him Emperor.

Chewie’d shocked him by grumbling that Ben really ought to go one further and let the people crown their Chosen One as they pleased, moaning that for once in the galaxy’s history everyone was actually agreeing on something.

In what century had his hairy uncle expressed even a single other opinion on galactic politics?

 

Rey had merely smiled whenever he’d spoken with her about accepting titles of any kind. She’d only reminded him to consider what the Force was guiding him to do. So, here he was, agreeing to be crowned King of Alderaan on Jakku’s Plateau of the Plaintive Hand where its stony edge dipped into a low cliff forming a perfect natural stage.

A massed choir numbering in the tens of thousands was positioned at the foot of that same cliff, facing an audience that seemed to stretch on forever. Quite a lot of people for one king’s coronation, he reflected. Perhaps Finn was right. Ben may have been underestimating people’s interest in him. Surely the Alderaanian diaspora couldn’t account for more than a minuscule fraction of the massive throngs gathered on the vast plain?

The choir members alone must have outnumbered the actual Alderaanians in attendance. He’d just overheard Threepio delightedly exclaiming that by his calculations the crowd before them was the largest ever to have gathered anywhere in the history of the galaxy. He found that thought humbling and was grateful he was still hidden from the audience by the natural rock formations flanking either side of the stage.

The massive crowd had begun chanting his name.

 

He began to consider if he might not have made an error in refusing an Emperor’s crown, especially one that was essentially ceremonial. Not that he’d done so publicly. Now that he could hear them, now that he could actually see them...

He thought he’d done the people of the galaxy all the service they required. Who was he, to deserve such honour? No, his personal crimes were too great. Nevertheless, he was torn. By refusing the crown they apparently wanted for him, was he essentially rejecting them?

He remembered only too well what rejection felt like, even if it were unintentional. In addition, what if Ransolm’s fears were proven correct, that his total absence at the head of the new galactic alliance he’d led them all to might create renewed instability? So much had changed so suddenly, and power vacuums were always dangerous...

 

Twin stone thrones awaited he and Rey on the otherwise empty stage overlooking the gathered throngs. Ransolm would shortly take his place at the podium just to the right of them.

Inspired by traditional Alderaanian design, the elegant thrones were a gift from the Chiss Ascendancy. The Chiss had wished to make an appropriate gesture toward their neighbouring galaxy in thanks and acknowledgement of the new and friendly alliance between their civilizations.

 

Grand Admiral Thrawn himself had overseen their design. One throne was carved of light stone and the other dark. Thrawn himself was nearly alone in knowing the inscription carved into their smooth stone translated as ‘Skywalker’—the traditional Chiss term for those strong in the Force. 

 

Ben spotted Thrawn in a place of honour near the stage, just as he could also see Lando, Chewie, Liina, Threepio and Artoo—all of them were present. Maz had her arm around little Temiri’s shoulder and was deep in conversation with Ahsoka Tano. Finn was laughing with Rose, General Temmin Wexley was apparently having a very animated conversation with Admiral Peavey and Commander Connix. Nien Nunb had just thrown his head back and was guffawing at something Elthree had pointed out. They, and so many others, were here to witness this moment.

It occurred to him that he was not alone.

Not that he ever could be. He felt Rey squeeze his arm. No, he was not alone at all.

 

“Ready to accept your titles?” He saw her flush pink for a moment before immediately correcting herself. “Title, rather.” She beamed up at him and he nodded, still thoughtful. If he hadn’t been so lost in those thoughts it might have occurred to him that she was trying to conceal something.

Ransolm was going over the order of ceremony one last time. As he finished, he gripped Ben’s shoulder tightly for a moment and gave him an intent look. “No matter what happens out there, believe me when I tell you you’re never going to have to sit on a throne and rule.”

Ben nodded and saw Ransolm’s gaze move to just beyond Rey, for three luminous figures had suddenly materialized. Ben’s eyes widened.

His grandfather and his namesake he recognized, only this time each had an arm around a petite figure standing between them, one so faint and flickering it was difficult to make out much more than the fact that she was smiling right at him. As Rey ran to embrace their grandfathers he suddenly realized the tiny woman somehow Force-supported between his grandfather and Obi-wan had to be Padmé Naberrie.

The tall Jedi he knew to be Qui-Gon Jinn materialized near that trio alongside Master Yoda.

To his utter astonishment his mother was suddenly smiling up at him next, impossibly warm and real and completely unlike anything he’d ever expected a Force ghost could possibly be. He’d never dreamt of being able to embrace her again.

Everything they’d ever meant to say to each other but never really had seemed to pass between them in that moment.

By the time Ben had mastered himself enough to step back from Leia, his Uncle Luke appeared to Leia’s right. He was smiling at him fondly and obviously understanding the source of his nephew’s confusion. Leia had never been a Jedi. How was this possible?

“There are many ways to be strong in the Force, Ben. Did you honestly think your mother could stand missing out on any of this for another second?”

Rey joined them and soon all four of them were laughing and crying and smiling—until suddenly his mother was all business, even as she wiped away her own tears of happiness:

“There’ll be time enough for this later. The people are waiting. Ben Solo, nothing would make me happier than to put a crown on your head. Let’s get on with it.” She smiled up at him again. “Here’s someone else who wouldn’t miss this. Not for anything.”

Ben had no words when Luke and Leia moved closer to one another and a much taller figure grew distinguishable between them. Like Padmé Naberrie’s, this form was so faint it was barely recognizable—-until Ben made out that familiar, lopsided grin. 

Han Solo’s face was smiling at him proudly and Ben Solo was completely overcome. He began stumbling toward him but his father smilingly shook his head, quirked a brow and gave him a look he remembered well—the one that meant he’d better do exactly as his mother suggested or they’d never hear the end of it.

“Let’s get this over with. There’ll be time enough for that afterward.” Leia smiled conspiratorially at Han before hauling their completely stunned son a few paces closer to the stage they were about to step out onto. Ben felt like he could hardly breathe.

When Leia pulled Ben into another embrace Ransolm Casterfo quickly turned to Rey. She answered his unspoken question with a small nod of her head...yes, the plan could proceed. She was certain.

Ransolm straightened the collar of his cloak and touched the red Plom bloom affixed to it while he waited for Leia to give her son another whispered instruction. The official ceremony was about to begin. Ben glanced over at Ransolm for a moment, nodding before turning back to his mother. Leia ended their conversation by speaking loudly enough for everyone’s benefit.

“Ben? Remember to let Ransolm do the talking. He’s good at that.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Promise me you’ll follow his lead.” Ben nodded, keeping his eyes glued on his father and still feeling as though he were in some sort of dream. Leia nodded to Ransolm just as Rey had.

 

Excellent. They were ready to proceed. 

Leia walked briskly toward him and he dutifully offered her his arm. ”Shall we, Princess Leia?” She smilingly nodded her assent. The two former Senate rivals stepped onto the stage together, she in icy blue and he in black, just as they had been the first time they’d stood together before the galaxy.

It heralded a new chapter in the galaxy’s history, one in which all of its known worlds would finally be united. Technically this was the coronation for the King of a dead world, but the people were there for the opportunity to honour their Chosen One. 

There were gasps of astonishment when the audience became aware of Leia’s slightly glowing form beside Ransolm’s living, breathing one. Was that truly a Force ghost? Right there, at the podium?

There’d been talk of such things, but now one of the mysterious beings actually stood before them. Holodroids were capturing the strange image, projecting it onto the gigantic screens set up at various places across the vast plain and sending that same image all the way across the stars.

It was almost immediately apparent that the being in question was none other than Leia Organa—Princess, Senator, freedom fighter, and beacon of hope for so many in the galaxy’s darkest hours. She was standing right next to the man who’d once vehemently denounced her as Darth Vader’s daughter. Both were looking immensely pleased. 

This was a new age, indeed.

As they waited for the sound of the crowd to subside to a somewhat reasonable level Leia murmured to Ransolm, “It seems you’ll get your Empire after all, Casterfo.” It was something of an old joke between them. 

“Thanks to your son, we finally have the right Emperor. Not that he knows it yet. I cannot believe we’re actually going about it this way. I will remind you that I take no responsibility for how he reacts—and I fully expect you to call him off if he ends up insisting on quarterstaves at dawn.” Not that either man would honestly mind the exercise. He just didn’t want to be the one bearing the brunt of Ben Solo’s frustrations tomorrow morning if Leia and Rey were wrong. But was that even possible? 

Ransolm waved to the crowd, and it obliged him by roaring. Good. This conversation wasn’t yet over. “Might I also point out that Populists will be every bit as pleased as Centrists? For the people have essentially been given the responsibility to rule themselves.”

“Yes, but how will we ensure that each world adheres to the tenets your new, wise and just Emperor has laid out in all of that fancy handwriting of his?” Leia was smiling for the holodroids and, like Ransolm, speaking very quietly without actually moving her lips very much. She knew the microphones had not yet been turned on and that holodroids would have nothing but a visual record of their interaction.

“ _My _Emperor? He’s your son. And no thanks to you he’s every bit as stubborn as you are, which is why we will have to make do with an elected council to oversee his glorious new Empire and prevent it from becoming the disaster you and I both know the Senate became.” Force, but it felt good to do this again.__

____

____

Leia arched a brow and gave him an enigmatic look. “I may I have a solution for that.” Without further explanation Leia stepped away from the podium to take her place at centre stage near the two stone thrones. Ransolm pressed the button activating the podium microphones. 

He would later recall that Leia had looked downright mischievous for a moment.

Thanks to some strange miracle of the Force, the galaxy witnessed Princess Leia Organa placing a simple Chalcedony circlet over her son’s brow to crown him King of the beloved home world she’d witnessed being destroyed before her very eyes.

Surely saving and uniting the galaxy counted as unprecedented fulfillment of Alderaan’s traditional Challenges of the Mind, the Body and the Heart.

Leia also crowned Rey of Jakku his Queen Consort. As the pair stood arm in arm before the cheering masses, the Force practically vibrating with the energy of the crowd, Ben Solo began to feel...that he’d had a change of heart. That perhaps he really ought to—

 

What was Ransolm saying? Because he was still talking. Not only was he talking, he was clearly warming to his subject and the already celebratory crowd was responding to the new electricity in his voice.

Ransolm Casterfo was asking the citizens of the galaxy if they had a wish to name this new king something more. Should there be another title for the one who stood before them, the one who’d freed them, saved them, inspired them? What would be a suitable honour they could bestow upon this man, the one they called their Chosen One? 

The crowd began roaring for Ben Solo to be named Emperor. 

Ransolm turned his head for a moment to regard Ben and Rey where they stood in the centre of the massive stone stage. Shouts of ‘Emperor!’ had been joined by enthusiastic cries of ‘Empress!’ and Ben’s eyes met Ransolm’s for the briefest of moments—Casterfo didn’t even have the grace to look apologetic.

Everyone was on their feet. The energy of the crowd was beyond surreal, and when Leia Organa’s former Senate ally, making the speech of his life, finally asked the crowds if they wanted an Emperor their response was a deafening affirmation. 

Ransolm was grinning openly by now and Leia had once again moved to stand beside him at the podium. That gesture was no doubt meant to symbolize the end of the bitter divide between the galaxy’s Centrists and Populists. 

Ransolm was still talking, the crowd was still roaring its approval every time he paused for breath...and Ben Solo came to understand there really was such a thing as coronation by acclamation.

The people of the galaxy had their Emperor.

Gasps from the crowd—-for a number of glowing figures had just materialized behind the twin stone thrones. 

More Force ghosts! So many of them! Was that one Luke Skywalker? Surely the one over there had to be the legendary Master Yoda? Two were too indistinct to make out, but debate would rage for days as to who all of the figures had been and what their presence had signified. 

The galaxy’s new Emperor silently stood before the cheering throngs. He took a moment to reflect that every so often, those who loved you were capable of understanding you better than you knew yourself. He glanced fondly at Rey, unsurprised to find her beautiful face wreathed in smiles. His own soul hummed along with hers in its happiness. 

Ben could also make sense of the whispered suggestion his mother had made just before the ceremony had begun. 

She hadn’t been talking about Alderaan at all. A King of Alderaan would never have need of a strong leader to govern in his stead. No, she’d been referring to something else entirely.

Ben commanded a shocked Ransolm Casterfo to come before him. Igniting his saber—which prompted yet another round of wildly enthusiastic cheering from the masses—he ordered Casterfo to take a knee before him and proceeded to proclaim him Viceroy. 

The Emperor’s trust in his Viceroy was clearly mutual. Though that deadly saber came within a hair’s breadth of each of his shoulders Casterfo kept his head bowed and never so much as flinched.

Even so, Ransolm’s heart pounded in his chest; this had never been part of the plan! 

Ben could hear his new Viceroy muttering something unintelligible as he deactivated his blade—did he just catch something about a quarterstaff? Unless he or Ben spoke especially loudly their conversation would not be picked up by microphones. Leia had advised Ransolm that the area around the throne warranted a certain privacy given the solemnity of the occasion, and she’d obviously foreseen more than one reason for that particular instruction.

Ben actually smirked. “Did I hear you properly? Need I remind you that all of _this _“—he gestured to the crowd, which then cheered obligingly—“ was, in fact, your brilliant idea to begin with?”__

__The Emperor disregarded Ransolm’s next comment, faintly surprised he’d lived to see the day the man actually resorted to swearing out loud. Then he extended his deactivated saber toward his still-kneeling Viceroy, turning its hilt so that Ransolm could easily grasp it. Ben took a moment to look back at his father as he did so._ _

____

____

Yes, Han Solo’s faint form was still visible. Ben took some comfort in knowing his father would be able to see the gesture he’d just made. 

Ben raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Go on. Take it. Your Emperor insists.” 

Ransolm’s face remained inscrutable as he considered his next move. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Princess at the podium wearing a decidedly triumphant look on her face. 

Always one step ahead. Some things never changed! Apparently it was still an exercise in futility to attempt to outmanoeuvre Leia Organa once she’d set her mind on something. Even though she essentially existed on some other plane, she’d obviously managed to orchestrate this in the very few minutes she’d had her son to herself. Casterfo would have shaken his head in wonder but for the presence of the holodroids. Not that Leia’s presence alone wasn’t wonder enough. 

“Go on,” Ben prompted him again. “ You were the one so keen to make me Emperor, were you not? My mother simply advised me to bypass the electoral process with your appointment. I find I quite agree with her.” 

Rey could sense Ben trying not to laugh at the confused and rather desperate expression on Ransolm Casterfo’s face. Ransolm was no doubt trying to wrap his head around the concept of Leia Organa actually dispensing with democratic process and obviously failing miserably. “Stop overthinking it, Casterfo.” Ben gave his Viceroy a pointed look and continued to hold the saber’s hilt toward him. 

“And what, precisely, am I to do with _that? _” Ransolm was referring to the saber.__

____

____

“I don’t know, wave it around for dramatic effect? Say something inspirational? It’s meant to be the symbol you’ve been carrying on about. One person cannot be that symbol. It has to be one that will endure.” 

“Dramatic effect,” Ransolm repeated slowly, clearly buying himself time before he had to turn and actually address the massive crowd. “I think _you’d _do a better job of that.”__

____

____

Ben eyed him quizzically. The crowds had grown quiet. 

“It might be an awfully convenient time for you to just...read my mind! It is my duty as Viceroy to remind my Emperor that we ought to at least _look _like we know what we’re doing.”__

A slow smile spread across Ben’s face as he put his hand on Ransolm’s shoulder and did just that. “Not bad, Viceroy.” Ben glanced at Rey, whose expression did nothing to conceal her adorably distracting dimples. Yes, she liked where this was going—even if she thought the pair of them had ridiculously theatrical tendencies.“I think we can work with that. We can do quite a bit more, actually. For dramatic effect.”

Ben’s smile lit up his entire face like the sun and the crowd roared as that image was projected onto the enormous viewing screens scattered across the vast plain below.

Ransolm rose to his feet, cape swirling (rather theatrically) as he turned to face the crowd and acknowledge their cheers for him. They well knew how tirelessly their new Viceroy had worked to help unite the galaxy in the wake of the Amaxine War, not to mention the numerous tales of his wartime heroics.

He gave the subtle cue meant as the signal for the massed choirs to begin their chorus, one which threatened to be drowned out by wild cheering, and Ransolm Casterfo addressed the galaxy for the first time as the official leader of its government just as Leia Organa had always hoped he someday would. 

  When Ransolm moved aside to once more take his place at the podium with Leia, the Emperor himself took three steps forward.

He brandished his ignited blade toward a golden, glorious sky and the galaxy thundered its approval. 

In one smooth motion he drove the tip of his glowing saber straight into the rock he stood upon, drawing gasps of wonder as its blade burst into a veritable rainbow of colour. A kaleidoscope of shimmering light cascaded from its hilt, dancing up and down the blade and out of its quillons even as the Emperor relinquished it and invited his Empress to step forward. 

There, on Jakku’s Plateau of the Plaintive Hand, the Emperor extended his own to one who’d once scrabbled in Jakku’s formerly barren wastes. No one watching knew the private significance of that gesture. 

Their Empress accepted it to tumultuous cheers, the dazzling sword still blazing between them in the stone where it would forever remain, like a promise. 

Ben and Rey raised their clasped hands high above it.

Radiant, Emperor and Empress sent a dazzling display of rainbow-hued Force energy streaking out into the darkening sky where it exploded into the most incredible display of fireworks anyone had ever witnessed. Forceworks, it would later be termed. 

The masses roared their approval and the newly appointed Viceroy jubilantly proclaimed the birth of a new Empire, a Jedi Empire, one that would stand a thousand years. That their Emperor, far from sitting on a throne, would walk among them. That it was they, the citizens of the galaxy, whose responsibility it was to uphold the new laws their wise and just Emperor had given them. That if ever those fundamental tenets were abandoned, a Guardian of Balance—a Keeper of the Flame—would arise, seize hold of the very blade now blazing before them in the stone and restore Balance as the Force guided them to. 

That the Guardians of Balance—the new Jedi—would never abandon them, but that they had a responsibility to themselves to uphold the principles their new Emperor—the Prime Jedi—had seen fit to enshrine in a new Galactic Constitution. 

That the Jedi—Skywalkers, in the language of their new Chiss allies—would always be with them, only they must never expect them to intervene in the natural struggles faced by any civilization. Only if the evils of tyranny or apathy flourished could they expect these new Jedi to act. 

The sun was setting on the galaxy’s darkest chapters. 

The massed choirs comprised of beings from all across the galaxy burst into glorious song and the wordless, triumphant anthem of the new Empire rang out for the very first time. 

A new anthem. 

A new alliance. 

A new order. 

A new age. 

\+ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Skywalker’ is the Chiss term for someone strong in the Force. (Oh, how I love Tim Zahn.)
> 
> As soon as I finish my Ransolm Casterfo stories I’m signing out of the Star Wars universe until next December, but I can’t do that without thanking you for being such a wonderfully supportive group of people. You’ve helped make trying my hand at writing something other than grocery lists and report cards a whole lot of fun. :)
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to you, whoever/wherever you are!


	34. Epilogue

Location: World Between Worlds

Han Solo to Luke Skywalker: “How long do you figure that thing can actually stay lit?”

(Leia rolls eyes in fond exasperation.)

 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist putting this back in.
> 
> May you not step on any Lego this holiday season! :)
> 
> Thanks again for reading along.


End file.
